


Looking for a Life to Lose

by anarcholoserism



Category: The Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Bloodlust, M/M, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarcholoserism/pseuds/anarcholoserism
Summary: Nearly two years had passed since the Emersons had staked Max and his droogs, and just about everyone had moved on with their lives. They didn’t talk about Max, and they sure as hell didn’t talk about David and his gang. Most days, it was as though the events of that summer had never even happened, but Michael couldn’t forget. As a new summer drew near, he found himself growing restless, his nightmares becoming more vivid, and a familiar voice growing in volume, beckoning him out into the night.
Relationships: David/Michael Emerson (Lost Boys)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter One

It had been almost two years since that summer, and just about everyone had moved on. To Michael, it seemed the rest of the family had gone beyond that. While his grandfather continued to thrive in his eccentricities, he'd become more withdrawn in his old age. Lucy had found a position at the local library, and despite her experience with Max, had found romantic success with a coworker of hers. Sam had taken on a part-time position at the old comic store and was in line to take over once he'd gone through his schooling. The Frog brothers had gone out of state to pursue greater nests and rid the US of A's vampire problem for good. Star had taken Laddie with her to find her family, off somewhere in the midwest. Michael had barely scraped by his senior year, and unlike his family, struggled to forget the events of that fateful summer.

It really began the night of Grandpa's funeral. The man had died peacefully, naturally- a heart attack had taken him in his sleep. He had felt no pain. The funeral had been solemn, but not without emotional outburst. Lucy cried into Michael’s shoulder as the oak casket sank down into the earth. One of his grandfather’s war buddies clasped his other shoulder, and looked up at him with a sad smile, “He was a good one.” Sam tried to hide his tears, to act tough, wiping at his face with his navy sleeve cuff.

Michael wanted to be upset. He wanted to cry and mourn the loss of his grandfather, but all he could think about as dirt fell upon the coffin was his own mortality, and how he’d chosen the same fate. He looked down at his hands, and with horror, saw as they grew veiny and wrinkled, watched as they shriveled away to nearly expose the bone. He felt a great pain in his chest, before keeling over and falling to his knees, gasping for air. He coughed as dirt fell into his mouth, watching in horror as Lucy’s tear-stained face dropped a single rose into the hole where he lay, and as the dirt continued to fall, everything went dark.

 _“This is what you wanted, isn’t it Michael? Michael...Michael....”_ It was a voice he remembered well. Powerful, taunting, and familiarly smug.

“Michael!”

Sam had taken hold of his arms, shaking him out of his stupor. He hadn’t moved, he remained standing in front of the freshly dug grave. It was as though nothing had happened at all.

“Are you okay, man?”

The crowd had dispersed, retreating to their cars, Lucy along with them. Sam was staring up at him, his eyes wide with concern. His mouth opened as though he wanted to say more, but Michael cut him off.

“Sorry, Sam. I’m fine,” Michael did his best to give him a weary smile, “I was just thinking about Grandpa, and how he’s...gone now.”

Sam nodded in sympathy, “I know, it’s kind of unbelievable. The way he went about things, sharp as a whip till the end, you’d forget how old the guy was. I’ll miss him.”

Sam looked as though he was going to break into tears again, and Michael found himself unsure of how to react. He pulled him into a hug, if only to obscure Sam’s view of his indifferent expression. Sam felt small in his embrace, fragile, as though one wrong move would put him in Grandpa’s place if he wasn’t careful.

“Tell Mom I’ll walk home, I just need a little more time with him.”

“Sure, Michael, I get it. We can talk later if you want. Love you, man.”

“Love you too, pal. Go give Mom a squeeze, she probably needs it right now.”

The sun had begun its final descent, and the sky was beginning to take on a gentle pink hue. He didn’t talk about it, but he still felt more invigorated at night. There were certain aspects of himself that remain altered despite Max’s death and his own return to humanity. He was restless most nights, as though there was something crawling beneath his skin, itching for release. He didn’t really feel a need to spend any more time in the cemetery where his grandfather lay, he just wanted to breathe in the approaching night air.

It had been almost two years since he’d impaled David on the rack of antlers. He’d watched as David’s eyes widened in shock, and he’d watched as his body gave a few jerks before going still. These were the images that graced the majority of Michael’s nightmares.

_“You tried to make me a killer!” He’d screamed._

_“You are a killer,” came David’s reply, smug and soft._

And he was, he’d killed David. It was agonizing for him, he remembered that. It was like killing Sam. And it did him no good, there was still Max to kill, and he felt no remorse in his attempt to do so. At times he wondered why that was. If it wasn’t for Grandpa driving through the wall, he would have killed Max himself, he wouldn’t have even hesitated. Max was just an obstacle, obstructing his life and those around him, he’d had no qualms about tearing the man’s throat out.

Michael shivered, the night was windy, uncharacteristically cool for the approach of July. He hated to admit it, but even after he felt Max’s blood and influence dissolve from his veins, something remained. At least, he told himself that it had to do with those monsters. There was a deeper part of him, one that nagged and clawed at the back of his brain, telling him otherwise. That maybe there’d always been this part of him that struggled to make a place for himself in the world, who never felt as though he belonged amongst his peers. Meeting David and the others, for a brief and horrifying moment, he had felt a sense of belonging, unlike anything he’d felt before. There was an intoxicating draw to them, to the sense of brotherhood and camaraderie they had, and it disgusted Michael at how he couldn’t help himself from wanting to be part of it.

The sky was dark now, illuminated only by the stars and a crescent moon enshrouded by the clouds. On nights like these, he couldn’t help himself from thinking about the first night he’d gone down to that sunken hotel. As he trudged along towards home, he envisioned those great oil drums, the face of the Lizard King, and the way the boys had cheered him on, dancing in the dead of night. He thought about going back there one of these nights, if only to wallow a little more in his ill-advised misery. He shouldn’t still be thinking about this. Lucy and Sam had moved on, they didn’t even talk about that summer anymore. He didn’t want to bring up bad memories for them, but having no one to talk to about what happened, what he was feeling, and what he had lost… it had begun to weigh down on him.

_“They’re not your family anymore, Michael.”_

There it was again, that impossible voice. It came from inside his head, from the tops of the trees, and on the gust of wind that made branches shake and chilled him to his bones. He wanted to call out, to tell the voice how wrong it was, but he couldn’t. He hated himself for it. Why couldn’t he feel for Sam and Lucy the degree of love and protection he’d once felt? They were so distant in his mind, foreign. He lived in their house, ate their food, listened to their problems, the recounts of their days, how Sam had picked up a rare copy of Superman, or Lucy’s dinner date. But he found he had little to say in return. Nothing interested him anymore. He’d juggled various jobs, as a trash collector, as a waiter, as a janitor. He’d saved up a decent sum of money but felt no desire to spend it on anything. He’d had to buy a new bike the previous summer, but it spent most of its time sitting in the garage collecting dust, a reminder of days past. He went through his life aimlessly, even the pleasant buzz of alcohol did little to fulfill the growing void. Was this how the rest of his life was going to be?

When Star left and took Laddie with her, he expected himself to be heartbroken, but instead, he’d accepted her sorrowful farewell kiss with little passion, and rarely returned her postcards. He’d never really known her, and they wanted different things with their lives. That is to say, Star actually had dreams and ambitions she hoped to fulfill in hers. Once David and the others were gone, the link that tied he and Star together sort of fell away, he had no more passion for her.

As he approached the dimly lit back steps to his house, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a set of eyes on him. He swiveled around, searching the brush and the trees for anything, but he saw nothing and no one.

“Hey Mike,” Sam had opened the door for him, arms spread open for an embrace, which Michael accepted, if only to be polite. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah, I think I just need to lie down for the night.”

“Sure, Mikey, no problem man. Before you go upstairs for the night- Mom’s been asking for you.”

Lucy was nursing a glass of wine in the living room, a photo album spread across her lap. She looked up when she saw Michael, and gave him a warm, if melancholic smile, “I was just looking at these old photos. They’re mostly from when I was a young girl, but there’s some of Grandpa holding you when you were a little baby.” She patted the cushion beside her, looking at him expectantly.

When Michael sat down beside her, she leaned against his shoulder, “See, there you are. You were so small, Michael. How big you’ve gotten now, Grandpa was so very proud of you.” She pointed at a photo of a much younger man than Grandpa, his hair just greying, smiling down at the cloth swaddled baby he held his arms. Her eyes welled up with fresh tears, and she buried her head in Michael’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry Michael, I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

“It’s okay Mom, you can cry. I’m sorry. He was a great guy, a great father to you,” Michael found it difficult to find things to say, so he resolved to just pat her back as she sobbed into his shoulder, leaving his shirt wet with tears.

After a while, Lucy let him go, and he climbed the stairs in a weary haze. He barely made it to his bed before collapsing upon it.

\--

David had been watching Michael for the last eight months. Unfortunately, he was too busy recovering from the gaping holes in his chest and clawing his way out of his own grave to have been watching over him sooner. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d survived what happened, it may have had something to do with Max’s death, but even so, it had taken longer to heal than he anticipated.

Once he’d gotten back on his feet, he kept tabs on Michael, but had to focus on resurrecting his other boys first. Marko had been the easiest, his body was relatively intact aside from his heart. And once the ritual had been completed, having a helping hand with Dwayne, and then Paul, had made the impossible task surprisingly manageable. It was a complicated ritual, requiring a great deal of victims, as well as an abundance of his own blood, but once it had been completed, he’d become the boys’ new sire in a way.

Once he had his brothers back, it was only a matter of time before things came back to Michael. Michael, who had rejected his gift, rejected his family, and had rejected him. Michael, who drove him into a wall of antlers, and watched as he died. He should despise the guy, but he was family, whether Michael liked it or not. Once the bond had begun to form between him and the others, there was never any chance of going back. It wouldn’t matter how much Michael struggled against his enthrallment to the boys. It would only be a matter of time until he couldn’t ignore their calls, until he would beg David to accept him back into their fold.

David licked his lips as he thought of what beautiful agony awaited Michael, it would only be a matter of time until he’d get his prize. The bond between them had faded considerably, but would never be fully broken. David had spent the last few months planting ideas in the boy’s subconscious, inklings and reminders of his true family, of where he really belonged, and how things were never really over. It would only be a matter of time.

_“Come on David, he’s sleeping. Let’s go down to the boardwalk, I’m starvinnggg.”_

_“Fine, Marko. You guys can go on ahead, I’ll meet you in a bit,”_ He grinned, _“I just want to play around with Michael a little longer.”_

“Whatever you say, man,” Paul was already retreating through the trees, “I can’t stand this place.”

David understood the sentiment, but with those freakish hunter boys gone, and the old man six feet under, the timing was never better for he and the boys to thrive, Michael alongside them.

He flew down to Michael’s window, peering inside at his sleeping figure. There was every temptation for him to tap on the glass, to snap the windows open, and bring Michael away with him in the night, but he knew satisfaction would be all the more sweet when Michael came crawling back on his own accord, begging for his blood. That didn’t mean he couldn’t peer inside the boy’s mind, to whisper in his dreams.

He leaned into the window, and whispered to the boy’s mind, _“Come home, Michael. We’re all waiting for you.”_

Michael stirred, before jolting upright and dragging his sleep clouded eyes frantically around his room, but no one was there.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I've never posted work to this site before, and haven't written anything outside of school in years, so please bear with me! I apologize in advance if I make a bunch of errors trying to upload chapters.
> 
> Constructive criticism is more than okay, I'm editing these chapters myself, and my ADHD brain may cause a few, or more than a few, overlooked continuity errors. If something doesn't make sense, please, bring it up! I'm really enjoying writing this story, and it's my top priority, but it takes me a long time to write and I spend most of the day staring at my computer screen all blank-faced. So I might screw up on some things haha.
> 
> Uh, anyways, I kind of hate talking this much about myself, so please enjoy the story :)
> 
> (I'll probably add chapter summaries once I'm done with the story, or just whenever my brain decides to function.)

Michael was still in bed when Sam left for work. It was difficult going to the comic shop today, to deal with crying children and thieving Surf Nazis, but he figured that getting back into the swing of things would dull the pain he felt towards his Grandpa. 

Things were a lot more laid back in the shop since the Frogs left on their expedition. They were no longer present to harass the customers about vampires and other things that went bump in the night. Sometimes he missed their company, but he sure as hell didn’t miss their constant harassment. Almost any time Sam had come through the door, either to say hello or at the start of a shift, he’d be splashed in the face with holy water. No exceptions. It could happen multiple times a day, in the off chance he’d been turned somewhere between 12 and 4 pm. It didn’t much matter that the sun would be at full mast. 

Sam had at one point been as paranoid as the brothers, but with Michael cured and his family happy, he no longer felt the need to seek out the dark and unknown. The Frogs could go and spend every waking moment of their lives killing creatures of the night, but Sam just wanted to settle down, pass his classes, and take over the shop. 

He worried about Michael. After high school, he hadn’t really done much. He didn’t apply to any schools and tended to quit his menial jobs after only a few weeks. He understood that Michael had suffered the most under the vampires’ reign of terror, but that had been so long ago now. Most days, it felt like a dream. Sam also had to take into account that Michael was practically an adult now, nearing twenty. His loss of interest in chasing after girls like a hormone-crazed lunatic, his reservedness, and his apathetic demeanor may have just been signs of his growing up. He’d never really made any close friends or lasting relationships since his arrival in Santa Carla, but he’d also always been somewhat of a loner. Even back in Phoenix, though Michael had been fairly popular, always having been invited to every party, he never brought anyone home or had a consistent group. Maybe that was just how he’d liked it, and Sam didn’t need to psychoanalyze him to get that people have different interests. 

Lately, though, Michael didn’t seem as content in his aloofness. Maybe still living with Sam and their mother was making him restless. He wondered if Michael would feel better about getting a place of his own, but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up without it coming across the wrong way. 

His thoughts were interrupted as a young boy slapped the latest Spiderman on his counter, he smiled, “That’ll be seventy-five cents.”

\--

Michael woke up at about 2 o’clock. His body felt heavy and lethargic, and if he really wanted to, he could’ve lied down for another hour or two. The only thing pressing him to stay awake was his stomach, which growled incessantly.

He had the sense to change out of the funeral wear he’d passed out in before slinking down the stairs, not eager to be chastised for wasting the day. 

As he emerged from the kitchen, roast beef sandwich in hand, he noticed his mother snoring softly on the living room couch. A nearly empty bottle of wine sat on the side table, not out of reach. It was disheartening to see his mother in such a state, but at the same time, he found a small perverse pleasure at the fact she would no longer be able to scold him for wasting the day. 

He decided to take his meal to go and to take his bike down to the boardwalk. Though he didn’t ride often, today it was almost fun. He snaked between lanes, cutting off cars, and genuinely laughed as they’d honk in protest. The negative to riding his bike was how aware he became of just how lonely he was. There was no one to laugh with him. Sam had never been into bikes, he preferred taking their grandfather’s car, going the exact speed limit, from point A to B. He’d passed his driving test with flying colors. If it had come down to it, Sam probably could have critiqued the driving instructor on his own abilities. The kid could be ridiculously straight-laced, but he knew what he liked. He liked his comics, he liked taking Nanook out for walks, and he liked the Sega he’d gotten for Christmas, hooked up to the television Lucy had finally convinced her father to let into the house.

He parked and locked his bike before strolling down to the game booths and restaurants. He’d become something of a regular, taking on odd jobs for a day’s pay, cleaning up vomit on the Tilt-A-Whirl, or picking up discarded trash by the picnic tables. The pay was meager, but he really only took the jobs to have something to do. 

As he wandered the boardwalk, he observed the others around him. Santa Carla always attracted an enormous tourist population, primarily midwestern Americans, but from all over the world as well. In the day, the boardwalk tended to be less busy but crowded nonetheless. He saw swarms of children running about, racing each other to the lines of the rides as well as food and game stalls. The day time was free reign for kids, and the locals as well. Even though Santa Carla’s reputation as the “Murder Capital of the World” had begun to wane, once the sun set, children were seldom seen without their parents, and most locals had the sense to stay home. Vampires or not, there were plenty of other unsavory characters one could run into. From a distance, they looked like ants milling about from one stall to the next. 

Hypothetically, there were plenty of cute girls nibbling on popcorn and cotton candy that he could approach and accompany them to one of many bonfires. There was never any shortage of teens around his age who looked to be having the times of their lives, but he felt no pull to join them. 

It happened more frequently on the days when he wasn’t carrying a trash bag filled with vomit and discarded food, but girls still approached him. He’d humored a few of them, had gone on dinner dates, held hands on the ferris wheel, fooled around a bit when he was really bored. At one time in his life, he’d have been enamored by any one of those girls, but he felt no interest now. It wasn’t that he didn’t see the appeal, or that he was no longer attracted to them, but it seemed that attraction had gone from romantic and physical, to aesthetic. Like watching many-colored fish swim by at an aquarium. When he held them in his arms and kissed their lips he was only reminded of how fragile they really were, how vulnerable, and how easily their flesh could scrape or tear. He felt as though they’d crack and crumble under his ministrations, and it certainly put him out of the mood. 

He was jolted from his thoughts as a sharp pain shot across his palm.

He’d been absentmindedly digging around behind one of the outdoor seating booths and had unknowingly come into contact with a shredded soda can. The metal had cut into his hand fairly deep, tearing his flesh open as easily as tissue paper. For a moment he just stared at the wound, how quickly the blood welled up and trickled down the lines of his palm. It wasn’t the pain that bothered him most, it was how easily maimed he was, how his body was so pathetic it couldn’t even defend itself from a Coke can.

He rushed to the restroom, flushing the wound with soap and hot water. The last thing he wanted was for it to get infected and have him die of tetanus or whatever else. Death by Coke Can. Well, at least it wasn’t Pepsi. Christ, he was pitiful. He wrapped his hand in toilet paper, wincing, he hoped the stuff was clean enough to not render his attempts at disinfecting the cut totally bust.

He’d ended up buying a bandana to wrap around his hand from one of the gift shops before finishing the day's work. He made about twelve bucks. He wasn’t really sure what to do with it. Idly, he contemplated giving Sam a cut, he could buy a video game or something with it, maybe even take a girl out. 

The last of the red in the sky was fading now, the sun fully submerged beneath the horizon. He had the urge to stick around a while longer.

\--

David had just woken up. 

_ “It’s gonna be a good night, boys.”  _

He sensed the others stirring from their slumber before dropping down from the suspension beams that hung upon the stalagmite lined ceiling. He could sense Marko’s aggravation before he’d even started voicing it.

_ “You say that every night, David. It’d be cool to have Mikey as a brother, don’t get me wrong. But does it seriously have to take so damn long? Just spike the guy’s drink or something, and when he’s nice and ready he’ll be too hungry to say no to dinner.” _

Dwayne stayed out of it, unsure of how David would react, but Paul butted in.

_ “I’m getting sooo sick of waiting, man. Can we at least take a night off from tailing him? I’m so sick of picking off drifters, we haven’t had a bonfire buffet in ages!” _

_ “I’ve got a good feeling this time, and I mean it. He’s not going to last the week without cracking. Won’t it be all the more satisfying when he comes crawling on his knees, begging us to take him back? If you two stop bitching I’ll let you mess with him tonight.” _

They snickered at that, already envisioning various ways they could get under Michael’s skin. 

David was glad to have his boys back. It hadn’t been an easy journey toward recovery for them. Those Frog freaks were, begrudgingly, adept at their attempts on their lives. It was really only on account of a small technicality that David had been able to bring them back from the sorry state they were left in. Had those two shitheads burned the bones rather than just bury them, David wouldn’t have been able to do anything other than mourn. Michael had missed his heart, which certainly made things easier on him, but he’d still been in a world of hurt. It took three days for him to pull himself out of that shallow grave, longer still, had that dog walker not been passing by at just the right moment. It’d taken another two days of heavy feeding until David had been at his full strength. Marko was in significantly better shape than the other two, and had only taken a few days to resuscitate him. Dwayne was next. The killing blow had been less severe for him, but the electrocution had blasted his body to bits. Still, nothing could compare to poor Paul. Even with the help of the other two, David had been nearly convinced that Paul was a lost cause. The boy’s flesh had completely melted away, so much so that there was hardly enough muscle to hold his bones together. Holy water was by far the most atrocious and unforgiving thing a vampire could come into contact with, aside from the sun itself. It’d taken Paul a month to recover physically, and even longer before he’d picked back up his old carefree demeanor. He was more glad to have them back than he was willing to admit. He’d never been the most sentimental guy, but to a vampire, one’s pack means everything. He’d never leave one of his own behind, no matter how resistant they could be. 

Silently, he mounted his bike and headed out for the boardwalk, his pack behind him. 

_ “So. Here’s the plan for tonight. We go riding like we own this town, make sure Michael notices. Feel more than free to mess with him. He’s breaking, I can feel it, he just needs another push in the right direction. He’ll come to us on his own accord.” _

_ “Sick! Paul, you thinking what I’m thinking?”  _ David could already tell that Marko was wearing one of his shit-eating grins.

_ “Aerial delivery?”  _ Paul snickered.

_ “Precisely.” _

_ “Don’t jump the gun with this. It’s one thing to drop a body at Michael’s feet, it’s another to have that brat brother of his seeing and alerting the other twerps.”  _ Dwayne was as cautious as he’d always been, but more vocally so whenever the Emerson kid and the Frogs were concerned. It was never unwelcome. Dwayne’s anecdotes saved David the trouble of scolding the other two and had saved his temper from souring on more than one occasion. 

Max’s blood was no longer in Michael’s veins, but it left an irrevocable impact. Regardless of how brief it had been, for a time, Michael had not been human. His body and mind had changed to accommodate a new self, an entirely new mentality and set of needs. Even if his body had returned to its original physical state, his mind was unable to do the same. Of course, it was more than possible for a halfling to make a full “recovery” and revert back to their old weak selves, just as Star seemed to, but Michael had been the perfect prey. He’d tended to keep things to himself. He shouldered his problems on his own- whether out of shame or the misplaced notion that he truly could handle anything the world threw at him- David wasn’t completely sure. Michael’s eyes had been opened, and by this point, he’d had progressed too far to go back. Michael would know, deep down, the only way he’d ever feel fulfilled was if he were to seek them out. 

_ “Well boys,”  _ David grinned as he eyed a small gathering of college kids,  _ “Dinner’s on.” _

The screaming was rivaled only by the boys’ gleeful laughter and hollering.

\--

Michael was nursing a beer as he sat on the beach, watching the black water crash on the shoreline. The carnival lights drowned out the view of the stars, but their reflection in the water practically made up for it. 

He’d caught Sam as he was closing up shop for the night, never one to stay at the boardwalk too long after hours. Sam had convinced him to grab a burger together, and the company was pleasant enough. 

They talked about Grandpa for a bit, Michael letting Sam reminisce about various things throughout their childhood. Still, he could already tell by the way Sam was looking at him, that he had something else to say, and had been rehearsing it to himself for the better part of the day.

“Sam, is there something else you want to talk about?” Shit, that sounded callous. Maybe not the best way to word it when the kid is talking about his freshly deceased grandfather. “I mean, you look like you have something else on your mind.” 

“Uh, yeah, I just wasn’t really sure if now is the right time to bring it up.”

“Well, now you’ve got to spill it."

“I guess I just wanted to ask how you’re doing, I mean, like, with life or whatever. I’ve been getting the gist that maybe you’re feeling cramped with me and Mom.”

“You want me to move out, Sammy?” He wasn’t really offended, just curious. This was uncharacteristically aware of Sam. 

“No! Michael, no, that’s not what I’m saying, man. I mean, you’ll be twenty before you know it. You’re not going to school, you spend most of your time either out of the house or holed up in your room-”

“You’re really starting to sound like Mom, Sam,” Michael couldn’t hold back a disinterested sigh.

“Shut up dude, I’m not trying to scold you. I mean, maybe you need your own space? I just want to know what you want.”

What did he want? Michael wasn’t really sure anymore.

_ “Oh Michael, you know what you want. You just won’t let yourself have it.” _

He jerked his head, pushing the voice away. “I don’t know, haven’t really given it much thought. You might be right, I guess I could look into that. Maybe get an apartment somewhere nearby, sure.”

“Well, I just want you to do whatever makes you happy, Michael.”

Michael had to hold in a laugh at that one, if only Sam knew.

“Don’t worry about me, Sam. I’ll sort myself out.”

Michael finished off the beer, crumpled the can, and tossed it into the sand behind him. Sam had gone home after imploring Michael to join him and check on Lucy. He’d waved him off, letting him know that he wouldn’t stay out much later. 

He wondered about getting another beer, not that it would do him much good. It was the soul-crushing boredom that was really nagging him, something a pleasant buzz would only minimally placate. He looked down at his bandaged hand. The bandana had stopped the bleeding, but the wound had still stained a few layers of the fabric. He wondered how he must look to the people on the boardwalk, sitting alone by the surf. 

He was jolted out of his thoughts as a mutilated body dropped from the sky to his feet, glassy eyes staring sightlessly, mouth agape. He jumped up, too shocked to make a sound. A rush of wind roared in his ears, but he could hear laughter as well. Just as suddenly as it came, the wind was gone, leaving nothing to show for it except for a still bleeding corpse. Unsure if he was dreaming, and unsure of how to react, he stared at it. There were gashes in its shoulders, what looked to be claw marks to hold the man in place as his throat was torn out. He was nearly decapitated. Michael backed away, before turning heel and running as fast as he could.

It was them. It had to have been. As much as he wanted to deny himself, he could feel it in his chest, in his bones, and knew it to be true. David was alive, and if David was alive, it was more than likely the others were as well. That laughter he’d heard was unmistakably Paul’s, and if Paul had recovered from his holy water bath, the rest were sure to have followed. 

He’d made it to his bike, and sped out of there, blindly letting it take him far away from the boardwalk. He’d been so disturbed that he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. By the time he’d regained focus, his heart dropped. It was the bridge he’d fallen off the night of his transformation. He spun out, flying off the bike, tearing up his jeans, and reopening the cut on his hand. He’d begun to hyperventilate when suddenly a hand came into view, offering to help him up.

“Ah shit, that’s gotta hurt!” Marko sneered, eliciting raucous laughter from Paul. 

He didn’t take the hand, but as he looked up he was met with David’s smug grin. 

“Hi, Michael. Long time no see."


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I finished writing this in a burst of energy at 4 AM. I hope there aren't too many errors, I did edit, but my eyes are barely open right now. This took a while because there was a lot I wanted to fit into this chapter. Part of my wanted to split this in two, but I figured the first half would be too boring as a stand-alone chapter. Not sure how long until the next, but I've already started it, and have brainstormed plot stuff. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> UPDATE: 8/25: Just want to let y’all know I’m getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow so next part might be a little delayed as I’m not totally done with the chapter!

Lucy was sitting on the couch with the TV on when Sam came in. She’d wrapped herself up in a blanket her mother had crocheted some twenty years ago. He had two takeout bags under his arms. 

“Hey Honey, is Michael there with you?”

“Nah, he’s staying out a while longer. Probably went to a bonfire or something.”

Lucy pursed her lips, she wasn’t a fan of either of her boys wandering the boardwalk after dark. 

Sam could sense this, and tried to soothe her by adding, “Don’t worry Mom, he said he won’t be out too late.”

Lucy wasn’t satisfied, but her nerves had had enough strain put on them the last few days, so she changed the subject. “So, what do you have there?”

“Burgers and fries. Went and got some with Mike after I closed up shop. I’m not all that hungry anymore, but I figured I’d bring back something for you. Beats my cooking.”

Lucy chuckled a bit at that, remembering the countless times Sam had managed to burn dinner or hadn’t cooked dinner thoroughly enough. He handed her one of the styrofoam containers which she took gratefully. She hadn’t really gotten up much today and had consumed little more than the rest of her wine and some chips. She called out of work for the day, she could have taken a longer leave, but honestly, the house was too empty. It only reminded her more of her father’s absence. The library had become her refuge. She’d made a great many friends, Patty in the Children’s Department, Nancy in Cataloguing, and of course, Bill, who shared the front desk with her.

“How are you, Mom?”

She managed a smile, “Oh, well, I’m okay, Sam. I’ll be okay. I’ve just been thinking a lot. I’m really glad Dad got to see you boys turn into such wonderful young men, he was so proud of you. I just wish he could have seen you graduate, Sam.” She’d started to tear up again, and had to stop and take a moment. Sam had placed his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. 

“Yeah, Mom. I miss him too. But he’s like, still watching over us, you know?” 

Lucy was nearly crying again now but contained herself. She wished both her boys were with her now but took Sam into a big hug. It seemed like her family just kept getting smaller. 

They spent the rest of the evening watching TV movies until she fell asleep again.

\--

Michael lept to his feet but found himself unable to back away, he was paralyzed. No, absolutely not. His paranoia was one thing, but seeing David in all his heinous glory was another. 

“I killed you.”

“No, Michael, you didn’t. You came pretty close though, and I suppose there’s some respect due for that, but no. Your brother and those freak friends of his though? They killed the others, dead as doornails. Sorry to break the news that you’ve been upstaged by a bunch of children.”

They snickered, but it was laced with an unmistakable degree of bitterness.

“Well, Michael. Now you know,” David looks him up and down, a smile gracing his lips, “You might want to get that hand of yours patched up a little better,” motioning to his wound, “Wouldn't want it to get infected. Goodnight, Michael.”

With that, David turns to leave. The others looked like they’re in on some private joke, as though they were holding back a laugh at Michael’s expense.

“Wait!”

David stops, and turns to face Michael once again, feigning innocent curiosity, “Yes, Michael?”

“You- Are you going to kill me? Are you going to kill my family?” 

“No, Michael, we aren’t,” the boys huff at that, apparently not on board with the sentiment. David gives them a glaring look that stops their insubordination in its tracks.

“No, you’re going to turn me then? Make me a monster like you?”

David smirked as he approached him, not stopping until he was close enough for Michael to see each and every detail of his face and the way it caught the moonlight. “Why, do you want me to?”

“No, of course I don’t!” He wanted to sound resolved, outraged even, but Michael was a mess of nerves, his voice was wavering. He wasn’t sure he could even get a running start if the boys decide to not play quite so nice.

“Then no. Michael, what I gave you was a gift. You didn’t want it. After what you pulled, we got the message. So, don’t worry, we won’t come for you.”

Michael was hit with an overwhelming sense that this was going all wrong. He didn’t want to be like them, he loved his family, he wanted to grow old with a wife and two kids, and live somewhere out in the suburbs. He’d been telling himself that for as long as he could remember, rehearsing it in his head over and over until it was true, even more often in the past few months. It felt distant now, like he was just narrating a book someone else had written. He didn’t know what to do, his eyes frantically scanned his surroundings. From the bridge to his discarded bike, to Paul’s fanged grin, to Marko’s self-satisfied smirk, to Dwayne’s intense glare, to David’s face- which was inches from his own. 

David pricked his thumb with a fang, letting the blood well to form a small bead. He took his thumb and smeared it over Michael’s lips. His body shuddered, and he had to choke back a humiliated sob. David only grinned wider, like a cat that had caught the canary, and said softly, “No, we won’t be coming for you. You can go home now, back to your lovely little life in the sun. We won’t do anything to you, not until you beg us for it. Goodnight, Michael.”

“Yeah, goodnight, Michael.”

“Sleep tight,  _ Michael _ .”

“Don’t let the monsters bite!”

This time, they did leave, mounting their bikes and howling into the night. Michael just stood where he was, unsure of what to do. His body struggling to drop its fight or flight response, he could still hardly breathe. How could that have happened? Was he just losing his mind? He thought about the body that had fallen on the beach. Had that been real? There was no one near enough to witness and react to what had happened, he had only his own eyes to trust. Eyes that had failed him before, when he’d seen his food turn to maggots and worms. Though that too was the vampires’ doing, so perhaps that only confirmed his worst fears. 

He hadn’t even noticed how he’d brought his fingers to his lips, touching the still-warm blood. Instinctively, he licked them, and almost fell to his knees. God, this was what he’d been missing. This was what that ever-growing void inside of him had been craving. For the briefest of moments, he felt totally satisfied. But it was only seconds before there was nothing left for him to lap up, to cling onto. That thing inside him was growing even faster than before, craving more and more. 

He felt so empty it hurt. For the first time in months, despite how terrified he'd been, he felt alive. Seeing David again, talking to him, had ignited something in him. There were so many emotions to be felt. Rage at the top of the list, but sorrow, excitement, anxiety, and something akin to fondness as well. It was as though, for a moment, his head had been lifted above the water. 

And he let them go. He had watched them leave so that he could return home to his family. His family, who he barely spoke to, and understood even less. God, why did this all have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t he just be a normal 19-year-old kid? He hated David with every fiber of his being, and he hated the rest of them too. He hated them so much he could hardly stand it. They had ruined his life, and a growing part of him welcomed that, craved what they had. And they knew that. They knew that they had ruined him and any chance he could have had of a normal life. As much as he wanted to deny it to himself, he viewed himself separately from humans. He no longer understood what drove them, what brought them pleasure and what brought them pain, or why they were content to shrivel up and die. It was like he’d fallen into the exhibit of a zoo. He despised himself even more, and how aware he now was of his own mortality, how he saw his humanity as a weakness. He was so fucked, and he knew that he was only delaying the inevitable. He wanted what they had, he was, begrudgingly, willing to admit that now, and they were more than willing to give him exactly that. 

He had to get out of there, it didn’t much matter what he wanted. He wasn’t ready to do anything about it. He was hardly in a state to even make it home in one piece, let alone the further mental strain of chasing after the pack of vampires.

\--

_ “Seriously, David, that was fucking hilarious!” _

_ “I’m surprised he didn’t get on his knees for you and beg for you to take him back right then and there. If you just gave him a little nudge, I’m sure he wouldn’t have even tried to fight it!” _

David smiled,  _ “Now, that is a pretty picture. But no, Marko, I want him to come willingly. I don’t want to give him any excuse he can use to pawn his desires off on. It has to be all him. He needs to understand that he’s one of us, and was always supposed to be.” _

Dwayne gave him a bemused glance,  _ “You’re sure he will? David, I know you’ve been surprisingly optimistic about all this, but is it possible you’re getting too soft on him?” _

_ “I’m surprised you aren’t convinced after tonight, he’s past the point of no return.” _

A flash of teeth, and Marko’s sly grin,  _ “You know what I hear? I hear a bet coming on.” _

_ “Oh hell yes! I wager Michael’s breaking by tomorrow night. No, uh… Night after actually.” _

_ “That’s still too soon, Paul. You’re so fucking impatient,”  _ Marko snickers,  _ “Next week. It’s gonna be a week from today.” _

_ “Well, I don’t think he’s going to break at all. You’re either gonna have to do things the hard way, or he’s going to end up jumping off that bridge. This time, without any of Max’s blood to stick the landing.” _

David flinches at the mention of Max despite his better judgment. Knowing that everyone else in the hotel ruins sensed that he flinched only further sours his previously laid back mood.  _ “Watch it, Dwayne, keep it to yourself.” _

_ “Right, sorry.” _

_ “It’s whatever. It’s cool,”  _ David takes a swig of beer,  _ “I’ve got the day after you, Marko. Whoever’s closest wins.” _

_ “You asshole, you always do that! You always take mine and mess with it so I’m least likely to win- it’s a dick move!” _

_ “Slow down there, it’s a community service. You always make us do the most humiliating shit when you win, and you’ve usually got like a freaky sixth sense about these things. I'm just leveling the playing field” _

Marko huffs and leaps up to a ledge to sulk. Paul snickers behind a magazine, while Dwayne appears to be digging around for another beer.  __

_ “So,”  _ David continues, ignoring Marko’s outburst,  _ “If I win, you all do what I ask, when I ask it. You do what I ask without pissing your pants about it. And I mean it. That includes going on beer runs without having a bitch-fit when it’s your turn, Paul.” _

_ “You’re such an ass, David,”  _ Paul throws his magazine haphazardly at him, but he sidesteps it easily.  _ “If I win, we’re going record shopping, and you’re letting me keep the music going even when we’re sleeping, loud as I want.” _

Dwayne snorts,  _ “Christ. If I win, Paul takes a vow of silence. 24 hours, because I know you can’t handle any more than that. No loopholes either, that’s silence both vocally and mentally. Not letting you weasel your way out of it this time.” _

Marko glares at David from where he sits, hugging his knees like some demonic child,  _ “If I win, David, you’re running all the errands. Takeout, beer, company, all you.” _

_ “Fine by me, but it won’t be happening,”  _ David sneers, but it lacks any bite. He doesn’t want to prolong Marko’s little episode. He’s tired.  _ “I’m hitting the hay, sun’s coming up. Join me or don’t, I don’t care, but keep it down.” _

“Sure thing, David!” Marko shouts out loud with a sneer, “Good morning buddy!”

—

Michael had practically spent the last 72 hours entirely in his room, and Sam was sick of it. Lucy had been pouring all her time into work at the library, and going out to eat with either Bill or her friends each evening in a thinly veiled attempt to stay out of her father’s house. Sam couldn’t exactly blame her, but it put him in the awkward position of being man of the house. 

He didn’t particularly like being in charge, because it meant less about having people do whatever he wanted, and more about yelling at Michael to get up, doing the grocery shopping, making dinner, and making it to the comic shop on time. When he put that way, it made his household sound like a dysfunctional mess, but he was accustomed to taking over every once in a while. Back when they were still living in Phoenix, Lucy would be too busy taking care of their drunken father to focus on much else, and so Michael kept Sam entertained and happy. Lucy was a good mother, a great mother, and she usually took on more than she could handle. That meant occasional burnout. It was okay, Sam really didn’t mind, she never took out her anger or frustration on the boys, she’d just get a little quiet for a week or so, drink a little more, and talk about her problems with Bill or her coworkers rather than her boys. It really wasn’t that big of a deal, and typically wasn't much of an inconvenience, but usually, he had Michael to count on for at least a little help.

“Michael you shithead! Get up already!” He was standing over his brother’s bed. The guy’s room was a pigsty, clothes and dinner plates discarded across the floor.

Michael opened an eyelid, and gave Sam a pained expression, “Sam? What do you want?”

“For you to get out of your room for more than 20 minutes a day, that’s sure a start.”

“Right.”

“I mean it, Michael. Mom’s still in a spell, and given the circumstances, I think it’s going to last longer than usual.”

“Okay, but what do you want me to do about it?”

“Christ, do you have to be such an asshole right now? It’s past noon, there’s no excuse for you to be acting like this.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve got my own problems to deal with, you know.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

Michael pauses for a moment, caught in the headlights. He looks like he has something to say, but he just huffs and sits there a moment. “You know, like, looking for apartments.”

Sam digests that. He was the one to bring it up to him after all, but it still wasn’t exactly flattering to be reminded of his brother wanting to leave the household, to leave his family. He takes a breath, “Right, well, look- could you just pick up some stuff at the store? We’re out of milk, and almost out of eggs. There’s a grocery list on the fridge.”

“Fine.”

“I mean like, now. Come on man, you’re gonna fuse to the mattress if this keeps up much longer- and I’m not going to be the one to pull you free.”

“Ha ha. Sure, whatever.”

Michael ushers him out of his room, and Sam goes to sit down at the kitchen counter. There was a fair amount of food in the house, but all in various states of disarray so that he couldn’t really make anything half decent for lunch. The bag of bread had one slice and two end pieces left, there was one slice of bologna left in the fridge, two eggs, a near-empty jar of peanut butter, and a half gone box of saltines. Nothing really piqued his appetite. He easily could have gone shopping himself, and in fact, would have preferred to- but Michael needed to get out and get some fresh air. He’d just have to suck it up and deal with whatever generic brand nonsense he brought home. It was like he had no idea what he was doing, like he didn’t care at all about what he ate or how he lived. Living with Michael had become something akin to rooming with the Living Dead, which would be excusable, had he not been one hundred percent human again. 

He heard Michael trudging down the stairs, obviously still pretty lethargic. 

“Don’t take your bike, take the car.”

“What? Bullshit.”

“Michael, you’re getting eggs. Take the car.”

“Fine, whatever. Christ, Sam, you’re worse than Mom.”

Sam throws the keys at Michael’s head, which Michael manages to catch before it makes impact. They glare at each other, but there’s little bite. There isn’t exactly fondness or humor in Michael’s eyes though, he just sort of looks like he couldn’t care less, like it’s not worth the energy to fight with him. Sam isn’t sure how he feels about that, it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

Maybe things would change once Michael moved out. Despite his previous claims, he hadn’t really left the house long enough in the last few days to dedicate his time to apartment hunting. Maybe that was yet another thing Sam would have to do for him. Seriously, who was the older sibling here? Grandpa had said once, not put too much pressure on Michael, or not to take things too harshly. He said it was on account of him having some sort of PTSD, the kind soldiers get. He supposed being half-dead and killing that vampire biker could do that to someone. Killing those freaks hadn’t really left so much of an impression on Sam or the Frogs, though. Grandpa had told Sam that it was different for Michael, on account of him being one of them and all. He supposed that made sense enough. Still, that had been ages ago. Maybe Michael did need his help figuring that stuff out, finding a place to live, and what to do with his life and all. Sometimes Sam worried that if Michael kept sitting around at home all day, or just from the way he’d get that dead look in his eye, that he’d end up a deadbeat like their father. 

He wondered if maybe things would have been better if Michael had chased after Star, but now that opportunity had long past. She sent the family letters occasionally, updating them on her life in Illinois, and how Laddie was doing. She’d reconnected with her family but had since moved out near Chicago for work. Laddie was attending school and doing pretty well for himself, he was in fifth grade now. Star rented out a space for herself and the kid, paying for it on her waitress salary, but things would be a lot easier for them soon as she was due to start work as a secretary for a law firm in the coming weeks. Sam wondered how Michael would have been if he’d gone along with her. Maybe he was down in the dumps because of that? It had seemed like he was in love with her, but when the time came for her to leave he didn’t really take it hard at all. Michael was honestly an enigma. He wanted his brother to be happy, but half the time it seemed like not even Michael knew what he wanted. 

The back door snaps shut, and Sam can hear the engine starting up. He had the house to himself. He could play on the Sega, maybe read some comics, finish his summer reading, even. The world was his oyster.

\--

Sam had wrangled Michael into cooking dinner, and making enough for Lucy should she have not gone out with her coworkers. Michael wasn’t super pleased about it, he didn’t really have any ideas on what to make for dinner, and wasn’t exactly a world-renowned chef. Anyone was better than Sam though, he supposed. Spaghetti and meatballs was what it ended up being. The sauce had come from a jar, but he shaped and seasoned the meat himself. No complaints from Sam, so it must have been good enough. He didn’t really have an appetite anymore. No matter how much he ate, there was still a gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach that refused to be satiated. It was like phantom pain, something he remembered reading about in tenth-grade Biology, feeling sensations in a limb that had been lost, that sort of thing. He knew what it was about, and it just put him in a sour mood whenever he thought about it.

He knew what had to be done. He’d mostly stayed in bed the past few days, but that didn’t mean he was doing nothing. He’d been plotting. Now that he knew David was alive, he couldn’t fight this any longer. He was so sick of trying to force a place for himself in a world that he didn’t feel connected to, and he felt like he was finally, finally ready to accept the remedy. He was going to see them, and then he was going to get an apartment, and "move out."

Lucy hadn’t come home yet, and Sam was watching the TV while eating a donut from the box Michael had picked out for him. The sun was just beginning to set, it was time for him to go.

“Hey, Sammy?”

“Hm?”

“Going to the boardwalk, be back late.”

“Alright, have fun, don’t drink and drive.”

“Yeah, right. I’m not a moron.”

“Yes, you are. What are you going to do anyway?”

“Might drop by one of the real estate agencies if they’re still open. If not, dunno. Pick up a chick or something.”

“You’re gross.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Gross. Later.”

And just like that, he was mounting his bike and heading out in search of the old sunken hotel. It really was that easy. He was honestly more freaked out by the fact that he wasn’t freaking out at all. The further the sun set, and the closer he got to his destination, the more excitement he felt. It was intoxicating. He felt so little these days, for nearly two years it was as though half his brain wasn’t working, like he had cotton stuffed in his ears. He couldn’t go back to that, he could never go back to that. 

There it was. The entrance to where it had all begun. The place he hadn’t been able to set foot into in ages, terrified of what he may find. 

He wasn’t surprised to find them waiting for him now. The onsetting night felt so alive, the air weighing heavy with anticipation, like a building storm just before lightning strikes. 

“Back so soon, Michael? I’m flattered. We sure missed you.”

He swallowed hard, being there, in the flesh, really brought him back down to earth, and his inhibitions were back in full force. Paul and Marko were looking positively devious, and even Dwayne was eyeing him with a thinly veiled smirk. David though, approached him swiftly, had his eyes burning with total triumph, lips pulled into a deadly grin. 

“Cat got your tongue? I remember pretty distinctly telling you my conditions. I don’t want to deal with any self-righteous bitching, not this time.”

“Please.” It comes out barely above a whisper, and Michael dreads David pushing him to repeat himself. 

Instead, David just cocks his head, looking at Michael expectantly.

Michael falls to his knees and hangs his head, “Please. Please, David.” His face is flaming with a mix of humiliation, fear, and the perverse pleasure of this finally happening. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t see or hear when David takes a claw to his wrist and draws a long line of red. David’s other hand comes up and touches Michael’s chin, beckoning him to look upward. David’s eyes are bright yellow, something in them beyond human, beyond animal as well. They looked rapturous. He couldn’t focus on anything else, but he felt the others’ eyes on him. The energy in the room is subdued, as though everyone was collectively holding their breath, enthralled.

David breaks the silence, he’s going for smug, but it comes out softer, awed, “This is a good look for you, Michael.” With that, he brings his bleeding wrist to Michael’s lips. 

It’s everything. It’s like electricity shooting straight through to his veins, going deep into his bones. He feels as though he’s melting and taking on a new form, he feels himself growing stronger, like every molecule of his body is reforming. Max’s blood was really something, it had seemed like the most incredible thing in the world, but it was like tasting ash compared to this. Straight from David’s wrist, warm, and powerful, and everything he could have ever wanted. It just felt so right. It all made sense, every screw, every nail, every nut and bolt, they all fell into place. He could barely think. He was so entranced that he couldn’t even bother to feel embarrassed by the fact that he was probably moaning. It didn’t matter, there was no need to be self-conscious. He was with his people, the only people who made him feel alive even as they killed him for the second time.

Finally, he let go of David’s wrists, licked his lips, and looked up. He knew there would be a new kind of hunger letting loose inside of him soon enough, but for now, he finally felt satiated. He felt whole. David was smiling, really smiling. The others took their cue to begin cheering, coming over to pat Michael on the back and congratulate him on his communion.

“Holy shit,” Marko said suddenly, “Paul won the bet!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had Dwayne say Christ... It's probably not the most accurate thing for a vampire to say but it's one of my go-to expletives, and I couldn't find a better replacement. So in this story's canon, vampires are able to take the lord's name in vain or whatever. Maybe the disrespect and blasphemy is what excuses it and makes it more fitting. I don't know.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that wait! Lot of crazy stuff going on, and I'm in the process of moving. This chapter was difficult, there was a lot of plot stuff I had to set up in my head, and that took a while. I worry that parts of this may be slower, hopefully not too boring, compared to previous chapters. The longer things went on, the more I felt I had to make this chapter worth the wait. I'm still not totally happy with it and am a little mixed on how long it got. The finish line just kept getting away from me. I've begun the next part, I have ideas on where I want it to go, but I'm not entirely sure how long it will be. Ideally, it won't take as long as this chapter, it probably will be a bit shorter as well.   
> Anyways, thank you for your continued interest in this project! Your feedback means the world to me!

By the time Sam had gone up to bed, Michael hadn’t come home. However, by morning, he was already up and active, looking brighter and more upbeat than he’d been in ages. He hadn’t seen Michael like this in so long, possibly forever. It was honestly kind of disturbing. He was stopped on his way down the stairs with a big hug.

“Sammy!” Michael was grinning as he released him, looking like he could hardly contain himself, “I found a place! Real cushy spot, right on the boardwalk!”

“Shit, really? That’s pretty awesome, congrats.” It was too early for him to match Michael’s energy, and seeing him in such a vastly altered state was a little too bizarre for him to handle. He didn’t mean to kill the vibe, but he couldn’t help being thrown for a loop. “Have you talked to Mom about moving out yet?”

Michael’s smile wavered slightly, but at the same time, it seemed as though he wasn’t all that concerned by the prospect of bringing up the big news with her. Sam was surprised. That was likely to be an hour-long endeavor full of tears and hysterics, at the very minimum. 

“Nah, haven’t really found the time. I guess I ought to.”

“Well, duh. It’ll be fine, it’s not like you’re moving out tomorrow or anything. Just make sure you keep tabs on Mom during the whole process.”

“Right, right...wait, what do you mean? Why would I wait?”

“Because, there’s like, paperwork, and leases, and that type of shit? You remember how long it took for us to move here, and all we needed to do was pack up a truckload of boxes.”

“No, it’s not like that. It’s like, kind of under the table stuff. This guy needs someone working odd hours at his auto shop, and he’s offering room and board. It’s a pretty sweet deal.”

“Mom’s not gonna like that. That sounds like a bad slasher film.”

“God, Sam, would you give it a rest? It’ll be fine. It’s legit, I checked it out already, obviously. It’s temporary, I’ll find something more… sophisticated if I need to, okay? Happy?”

“Michael, did you get any sleep last night? Because you’re acting like a real asshole all of a sudden. You PMSing?”

He rolled his eyes, positive attitude fading faster than Sam could keep up with. “Sam, it’s fine, okay? Look, I’m sorry. I’ll talk to Mom, it’s all gonna be just fine.”

Michael was acting odd, to say the least. He didn’t look himself, and the longer Sam stared him down, the more obvious it became that he’d been up all night. If Sam were the same fourteen-year-old kid he’d been when he met the Frogs, he’d chalk it up to a case of vampirism. Now, he wasn’t so convinced. Everyone was acting weird lately, maybe it was just a part of the grieving process. For Lucy, it meant staying out of the house a little more in order to avoid moping around or spending the day in bed. For Michael, maybe it meant being impulsive and then being an asshole when questioned about it. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. He didn’t take psychology. He preferred chemistry when it came to the sciences, stuff that had a lot of math and a lot of rules. That was the sort of thing he could understand. It was part of why he had no interest in joining the Frogs on their cross country endeavor, apart from also simply not having a death wish. Lucy would probably have his head if he even thought to have brought up the idea, anyway. He loved his comics for sure, he’d even considered getting into writing some of his own, since drawing them was a bust, but those were fiction. He liked his crazy shit to stay fiction, to stay in between inked pages and behind a seventy-five cent price tag. 

He could hear the creaking of floorboards upstairs, signifying that Lucy had gotten up and was preparing for work. He wondered if she’d need a ride to the library or if she had that all arranged.

“Hey, Mom?”

Michael peaked into view, glaring daggers, “I can talk to Mom about this myself, thanks.”

Sam scowled, “Chill out man, that’s not even what this is about.”

“Yes, dear? Sam, are you and Michael fighting again?”

“No, Mom! It’s fine, hold on a minute!” He yelled, shooting Michael the bird before scrambling up the stairs. 

\--

Lucy saw Sam out. She was going to be picked up by Bill in about twenty minutes. With Sam leaving for the comic store, that left her and Michael alone. They were sitting at the kitchen counter, mugs of coffee in their hands. Michael wasn’t really drinking his.

“What’s the matter, dear?” She hadn’t really found the opportunity to have a proper sit-down conversation with Michael in ages. She didn’t really know what was going on in his head anymore, but then again, that was pretty typical as children aged. She didn’t want to pry into his personal life, but at the same time, hated being cut so thoroughly out of the loop.

“Well, actually, I’ve got this new job down at an auto repair shop. It offers room and board.”

Lucy was taken aback, but tried not to show it, “Oh, really dear? Does that mean...you’re thinking of moving out of the house?”

“Well, yeah,” Michael continued, speaking as casually as though he was discussing what he’d had for dinner last night. “It’s a pretty sweet deal, it’s right by the boardwalk and everything.”

She took a deep breath and tried to read his unconcerned expression before continuing. “Well, I’m proud of you and glad to see you taking initiative, but this is all very sudden. This is sort of coming out of nowhere for me, you understand? This is a huge step to take, I really think you ought to give it some more thought-”

“Mom, this is a once in a lifetime type of deal, y’know? Blink and you’ll miss it. If I don’t pounce on this, some other jackass is going to take the position.”

“Language, Michael! Please! I just think this is all just happening so fast, and maybe it’s best you don’t jump into these things without thinking first. That’s all I’m saying, I’m not saying no! Have you looked at the property already? I think I ought to check it out as well, don’t you? I’ve been through this kind of thing before, I know what a scam looks like-”

“Mom! It’s not a scam, Jesus, it’s just a job! It’s temporary! It’s a good job, a stepping stone or whatever, to better things. I’ll just be there long enough to save up some money to find a proper place, okay?”

“Michael I really don’t appreciate the tone you’re giving me right now, and I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this. Did I say something to upset you? Can you just take a moment and take a deep breath? Just breathe, and talk to me.”

Michael looked as though he was holding back another scowl, but managed to restrain himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a stabilizing breath before meeting Lucy’s eyes, “Okay. I’m sorry. I guess that after what happened with Grandpa, I’ve just been feeling really cramped. More aware of how fast time is passing, and that I’ve spent the last year doing basically nothing.”

“Okay, Michael I think I understand,” She tried her best to give him a comforting smile, but she didn’t know what to say in response, and feared that the longer the silence stretched out, the deeper the divide forming between them would grow. She didn’t want to crush his spirit, and she didn’t want to deny him the independence he was old enough to be entitled to, but she still really wasn’t sure that she was ready to have her first-born son leave so soon after she’d lost another part of her family. Did that make her selfish? She reached out to take his hand, in an attempt to show her compassion and to reassure him of her investment in his situation, but he winced and looked as though he had to fight himself from pulling away. 

The gears were still turning in her head when suddenly she heard two brief honks coming from the front of the house- Bill was here. She gave Michael’s hand a squeeze and flashed him an apologetic smile, “Michael, I’m really sorry but I’ve got to get going. I know this is a big step, and I don’t want to undermine that for you. Let’s talk about this at dinner, okay?”

“Okay, sure,” came the reply, with Michael sounding as though he’d rather be doing anything else. It stung, but she tried to hide that. Another sad smile she worried will demand his pity, but she had to go. 

“I’ll see you at seven! I love you, have a good day, dear.” 

“You too.”

“Oh, and Michael? Could you please take Nanook out for a walk? I don’t think Sam got around to it this morning.”

\--

Michael forced an uneasy smile onto his face and gave a little wave at Lucy as she retreated from the house. Shit. Well, that’s that, then. Michael couldn’t say he was surprised that she didn’t take to the news all that well. Given recent circumstances, and given Michael’s sudden shift to action after months of inaction, Lucy was bound to be thrown off balance and not be too pleased about it. The predictability of it all only served to exacerbate his annoyance though. 

It was as though he knew exactly how she’d react: how many sad smiles and watery eyes would grace her features, what arguments she was going to make, and the conclusion that was yet to be reached. It was like the conversation was happening in slow motion, and he just had to sit there and wait for it to be over. It made it difficult for him to empathize with her. It felt like he was watching someone read off a script, and he was expected to read from his own. He knew the right things to say, exactly what would placate her anxieties, but it just felt so fake and synthetic. He truly felt better about being blunt. In a way, his clipped responses were his attempt at showing his respect and affection for her, even if it really came across the opposite way, and even if he was struggling to hold that esteem for her.

He just didn’t want to deal with any further complications, and now it was practically solidified that he was going to have to make this whole thing a several day process. He was so tired of everything. By no longer actively denying and fighting against the change he was undergoing, he had to face a push and pull of both benefits and drawbacks. The thirst wasn’t something that was going to go away or get any better, but it wasn’t so bad just yet. He knew from memory that it wouldn’t be until the first nightfall for it to crest. The hindsight and full knowledge now of what was happening within him gave him a greater level of control than he’d previously had. He wasn’t all that concerned anymore that he was going to lose control and have Sam for dinner, at least not yet. The longer he waited to...satiate the thirst, the more difficult it would be for him to maintain that composure. He had stayed up all through the night, in an attempt to avoid the fatigue and vampire-blood induced hangover he remembered so well. It wasn’t a terrible strategy, but he figured he’d have to have to prepare to spend most of tomorrow in bed.

Nanook was definitely going to be a problem. Crossing the threshold back into the mudroom late last night had him face-to-face with the guardian of the house, and that dog was none too pleased. Miraculously, instead of trying to maul Michael and bark loud enough to wake the house, he just gave him a low and menacing snarl- a warning. That was just with Michael making eye-contact with the mutt. Any attempt for him to leash the dog or even come within three feet of it was bound to be a lot worse. He weighed his options. If he ignored Lucy and Nanook ended up pissing the carpet or chewing someone’s slippers the scolding he would get would only multiply on account of him blatantly disobeying her, and he needed to be on her good side. If he tried to take Nanook out, the dog may try to kill him or run away, or whatever else dogs do when they’re dealing with the living dead. Even so, he made the decision to listen to Lucy and prayed any life-threatening wounds would heal in a timely manner.

“Nanook? Here boy!” This wasn’t going to be all that easy either. Nanook was Sam’s dog, always had been. Michael was never much of a dog person, even before that bathtub incident. 

“Nanook!”

He wasn’t sure how else to call the dog. He could use any variation of those weird baby voices and pet names that people, including Sam, would use when talking to animals, but given the circumstances, it may come across as condescending to Nanook. He continued about the house, trying to see where he may be hiding, and getting increasingly aggravated along the way.

It was when he retired to his room that he found him. Nanook was sitting in the middle of his floor, glaring at him. No one moved for a second until Nanook got up and Michael saw it. A puddle. Nanook glared up at him, daring him to make the next move. 

He stormed down the stairs faster than he thought possible, nearly biting through his freshly healed hand in effort to keep himself from breaking a hole in the wall, or tearing the dog apart. It took just about everything in him to remember Nanook as Sam’s dog, Sam as his brother, and that being reason enough to not harm him. Michael could feel the start of his facial structure shifting, trying to make space for his still-forming fangs, and it took some effort for him to fight it. He stood there in the living room until the all-consuming murderous rage ebbed away to general irritation. At some point, Nanook had followed him down and was now scratching at the back door which led to the yard. He walked over stiffly, and gingerly opened it for the dog, before bringing his hands back tightly to his sides, nails digging into his palms. He collapsed into an armchair and pressed his fingers to his temples. The rage he’d felt, white-hot and blinding, the brief but near-total loss of control- that was a problem. 

It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to understand why he remained in this house. Even before last night’s events, he’d been feeling out of place. What happened that first summer in Santa Carla, even though physically he’d been cured of that affliction, had still changed him irrevocably. He’d thought David and the boys had been dead all this time, all the while questioning if things had been worth that. Allowing and actively participating in their deaths in order to...prevent himself from becoming a killer was certainly an oxymoron to begin with. He didn’t regret protecting his family from Max, but he couldn’t help himself from considering what else he’d given up in the process. If he hadn't let the Frogs stake Marko, he wondered if the others would have gotten involved to begin with. They probably would have come for him, but not his family. He wondered how that would have gone down. He was a different person then.

He’d been given an alternative to his life, one he had turned down in favor of his humanity and his family. His family, who had just carried on as usual, and barely acknowledged what he’d gone through, what he’d given up entirely for them. And now, it was as though the reset button had been pressed. He’d been given a second chance, taking it just seemed like fate. Lightning seldom strikes twice. As long as he didn’t harm his family, was taking this opportunity really all that bad? It was too late to really mull it over any longer. His only way back now would be to stake David, something he was so averse to now that even thinking of it in the hypothetical made him feel sick. He made his choice, and there would be no more half-measures. It was no longer a matter of if he’d take that final step, but when. 

He was so sick of thinking and having to worry about things he could hardly even understand anymore. He was trying to set up the perfect little alibi for Lucy and Sam so he wouldn’t break their hearts or whatever, and they still weren’t happy with that. Getting a job and moving out? Isn’t that what parents want their kids to do? Lucy made such a fuss about him wasting the year away after high school, for not applying to any schools, and now that he was  _ supposedly _ joining the workforce like a decent young man- she was still going to cry about it? At least Sam was on board with the whole thing, but he still posed the threat of being a retired vampire hunter- and the Frogs were one phone call away. The more Michael interacted with this family, the deeper the grave he’d be digging for himself. David was right, he had to admit against his pride, he wasn’t like them anymore and there wasn’t a place for them in his life anymore. He was going to have to let them go, and it wasn’t going to be as difficult as he thought. 

Against his better judgment, at some point, he had let his eyes slip closed and he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. It was Nanook scratching and yelping at the door that roused him, and by that point, noon had come and gone, and the sun was already beginning to set. He shifted out of his chair and let the dog in, who glared at him before slinking away. He couldn’t be bothered, the lower the sun set, the higher his spirits rose, and the better he felt. 

It wasn’t long before the front door opened up to reveal Sam and Lucy, takeout bags in hand.

“Michael dear, could you set the table?”

“Uh-huh.”

And then they were seated. The moment of truth.

“So,” Lucy began with a wary smile, “Michael, you were telling me about how you’re thinking of moving out?”

Sam dug around his plate of pasta in feigned distraction, it was pretty clear he didn’t want to be involved in the discussion.

“Uh, yeah. Sammy already knows, he’s actually the one who suggested it,” he shot Sam a sly smile which was met with a scowl.

Lucy frowned, “How do you mean, dear? Sam, are you telling me you want Michael out of the house?”

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes, “No! Michael’s just being an a- sorry, he’s just pulling your leg. Yes, I suggested it, because he’s nearly twenty and doesn’t go to school, and he looks miserable every day. I was just trying to help. I don’t want him  _ out _ , I want him to not spend the rest of his life as a zombie. It was just an idea, okay?”

“Yeah, Sam’s got a point. I agreed with him, that’s why I went out looking for a place. And I found one.”

“Alright, well. I suppose you’re an adult now, you can make your own decisions. I just hope this is what you want, I know this past week has been hard on all of us.”

Sam looked caught up in emotion, staring woefully at his eggplant parmesan. Lucy was getting that watery look in her eye as well. So it was going to be one of  _ those  _ nights. He did his best to hide his impatience while his mother was piecing together what next to say.

“Well, I’d like to see this place of yours. I want to make sure everything looks up to code.” She smiled at him, though it was shaky.

“Right,” he managed to smile in return, “Maybe tomorrow or something.”

Dinner carried on. Michael picked at his food. The longer he sat there watching the others eat, the more aware he became of his own hunger, building up and clawing at him. It was still a dull ache, but getting sharper as the night progressed. He would need to find some way to soothe it without giving in just yet, there were still things he had to do. Sam talked about his day, and how a group of Surf Nazis managed to knock over a display case in their attempt to pocket some of the merchandise. Lucy told the boys about how she had to help a little old lady who was nearly deaf with filling out some paperwork, and how Bill had nearly lost his voice trying to communicate with her. When Michael’s turn came to talk about the afternoon’s events, he was at a loss.

“Nanook pissed on my carpet.”

“Oh dear, it’s going to be such a pain to get the smell out! Michael, I asked you to take Nanook out for a walk, didn’t I?”

Sam looked up from his thoroughly cleaned plate with a scowl, “What? You idiot, did you not take him out today?”

“I did,  _ thanks _ . Your dog probably just has a tiny bladder. He did it this morning, I guess, before I could have done anything about it. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Nanook knows better than that. I took him out at ten last night, he shouldn’t have needed to go. What did you do?”

“I don’t know, Sam. Forget it. It’s not that big of a deal, I’ll clean it up.”

Sam grumbled a little but didn’t say anything more. Michael shoveled in a few more spoonfuls of pasta and poked around at his plate before rising to put it in the sink. 

“Anybody else done? I’ll get the dishes.” 

“Oh, Michael, that’s very thoughtful of you! Thank you.” 

His back to them, he allowed himself to smirk. Predictable.

“Mm-hmm. I’m going out again tonight if that’s okay with you.” It didn’t matter whether it was or wasn’t, he’d just sneak out if needed.

“Just don’t be out too late, dear. You need your rest.”

Some more small talk was made as Michael finished scrubbing the dishes clean. Sam had retired upstairs, probably to read comics, or possibly phone a few friends. It wasn’t much longer before Lucy had gone to the living room to catch the rest of the news. 

Michael donned a jacket and mounted his bike and set out for the sunken hotel.

\--

Though he was still blinking away the remnants of the day’s rest, David could sense that Michael was nearing. He stretched out his arms, let out a yawn, and dropped down from the cave ceiling. The others were beginning to stir, but as the oldest, David tended to be the first awake. He slipped on his boots and went to lounge in his wheelchair while one by one the boys dropped from their perch and went about the cave. Paul went straight to their stereo, which had overheated or otherwise fizzled out sometime during the day. He hit it over the top repeatedly.

_ “You were a moron for thinking that hunk of junk was going to last more than two hours at that volume.” _

_ “Shut up Marko, you’re just sour that you lost and I actually won for once. I’ll just steal another one. You aren’t cutting my win-streak short that easy!” _

After a few more hits that sounded as though they’d dented the metal, the stereo roared to life, though it was staticy and cut out every few moments. There was no masking Paul’s elation, which was endearing enough to cause David to crack a half-smile.

_ “Hey, hey! Look at that! Good as new!”  _

_ “Why don’t you just use the record player, that sounds like shit.” _

“Because, Dwayne,” Paul continues aloud, punctuating each word by raising the volume impossibly higher, “It’s not. Loud. Enough!” 

_ “Paul, lower that shit. Michael’s here.” _

_ “No way, I won the bet and you agreed to my terms!” _

_ “Don’t make me ask twice.” _

There was a heavy sigh and the volume diminished slightly. It was still deafening. Michael had reached the entrance, but seemed a bit off-kilter, no doubt in the throes of hunger pain.

_ “Marko, help our friend down, won’t you?” _

Moments later they emerged, with Michael leaning onto the smaller man, feet dragging on the floor. Marko dropped him off on the couch, and David rose to join him. Dwayne wrestled with Paul at the stereo and brought the volume down a bit further.

“Michael, you don’t look so good! I think I know just the thing to help you feel better.” 

“Can’t.”

David scowled, this was the last thing he wanted to deal with. Michael’s reluctance to feed had proved disastrous before, he wasn’t going to be so easy on him this time around. “Yes, you can. And you will.”

“No, I mean, not yet,” Michael brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunched shut. He sounded miserable, and David didn’t want that.“Eventually, soon. There’s a few more things I need to do, need the daylight to do them.”

“Why are you making this more complicated than it needs to be?”

“Listen, I’m not half-assing this. I made my choice, I'm not going back on it. I’m doing it right. Do you want the Frogs to come back? If Sam catches wind of this, they’re a phone call away.”

“I’m not afraid of them! I hope they do come back! I want nothing more than to rip their guts out myself!” That was Paul, but Marko and Dwayne were visibly agitated at the mention of them as well. Their barely restrained energy weighed the atmosphere down, lacing the air with the heavy scent of rage. It appeared to be overpowering for the half-vampire, who shuddered slightly and curled in on himself a bit more. Until he completed his transformation, he would remain especially vulnerable to both their allure as well as intimidation. David put his gloved hand on Michael’s head, playing with his curls in an attempt to comfort the distressed man. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I’m sorry.”

The tension deflated almost immediately. No one particularly wanted to see Michael in this state. He was one of them now, more or less. 

“Alright, Mikey,” David said softly, hand still in his hair, “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Ancient history now. What do you have left to do before you finish the job?”

“Told Sam and my mother that I found work, and a room to live in. She wants to see the place, probably meet the boss or whatever, make sure it’s not a scam.”

Marko groaned loudly, “Christ, that’s overly complicated. You should have just faked your death or something.”

“Yeah well, her dad just died. Figured it would be too cruel otherwise. I’d feel bad.”

“Would you really?”

David eyed Michael as he appeared to mull it over in his head. It was fascinating to see how the gears turned, how his priorities shifted the longer he stayed in their vicinity. “I don’t know. Whether I do or don’t, it’s just the right thing to do, I think. They’re still family, I shouldn’t hurt them if I can help it.”

“Well, you’re going to need our help with that, I imagine. I would say tonight we could find some loser to brainwash, but you don’t look so good.” 

_ “You boys go on ahead if you need to. Got to get Michael’s hunger under wraps. I’ll join you later.” _

Michael stiffened a bit, and glanced at the others, a bit bewildered. He’d heard similar whispering in his mind before, David made sure of that, but the direct mental link shared between all the boys through their bond would be new to him. It was always amusing to see how halflings reacted. Star didn’t seem all that shocked and took it in stride, and Laddie had been ecstatic, thinking it was the coolest in the world. David almost missed them, but they were too tangled up in association with Max in his memories for him to dwell on it. Most of the boys reacted, unsurprisingly, as Michael had their first time around. 

“Did you just say something?”

The boys collectively feigned innocence, throwing out various excuses, but their snickers pretty much gave them away.

“What are you talking about, man?”

“No way!”

“You’re going crazy, Mikey. Got to get some food in ya!”

David decided to let them have their fun. It was harmless, after all.

_ “You clowns go on and eat. I’ll catch up with you.” _

The boys flew out of the cave, still laughing. Michael was radiating indignance, but as he sat on the couch, curled up to David, allowing himself to be pet like a dog- it wasn’t all that intimidating.

“You’re doing something. Talking in my head. I’m not an idiot.”

“No, Michael, you’re not an idiot,” David couldn’t help the smirk that crept up onto his face, “You’re hungry though, aren’t you?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Yes, I do.” He shoved Michael over a little to make room for himself on the couch and inclined his neck, baring his throat, “Go on then, dig in.”

Immediately, the man’s eyes flashed golden. His interest piqued, his hunger reawakened and nearly all-consuming. “What? Won’t that hurt you?”

“Not the way you’re at right now, you don’t have the strength. Even if it could, it won’t hurt unless you want to make it hurt. Do you want to hurt me, Michael?”

“No, I don’t,” Michael still sounded hesitant. He could delve into his mind, could influence him, relax him, but he wanted this to be all Michael. Having Michael follow his base instincts, to feed on his own accord, held far greater appeal than any number of things he could make the half-vampire do.

“The more you drink from me, the more your change is going to progress. Your days in the light are numbered, regardless of when you make your first kill. You need to understand that. The sun won’t kill you, not yet, but the longer you draw this out, the worse the state you're gonna be in.”

Michael had leaned closer to David’s exposed throat, hesitant, but not shying away. The boy’s features were shifting, his fangs bared. David could only observe from the awkward angle he found himself in, but it was still a sight to behold. He could only imagine how breathtaking it would be when Michael made his first kill, surrounded by his brothers, blood-stained in the moonlight.

“Whatever it is you need to do, you’re going to need to have it done within the week. I can give you a flask to curb your hunger, but eventually, that isn’t going to be enough. You understand that, don’t you, Michael?”

Michael nodded frantically, enthralled, no doubt, by the scent of blood just beneath his skin.

“You’re one of us, if there’s something you need, you just have to ask.”

David could sense how he preened at the words, and it made him proud to know how much Michael had grown, and how important his acceptance within the pack had become to him. He was shaping up quite well, surpassing expectations. It was a shame the road leading them to this point had to be so prolonged and difficult, but David had nothing but time. 

“Can I…?” Michael whispered, not bothering to wait for a response. He sank his fangs into David’s throat, and the sensation was just as incredible as expected. Though it was only David's, a vampire's first taste of flesh was monumental. The bond between Michael and himself, as well as with the rest of the boys strengthened with every mouthful of blood he swallowed. The halfling was starving, and David was going to have to feed a great deal tonight to make up for it, not that that was anything to complain about. It was mesmerizing to observe him in this state, fully embracing his potential and true self. He was growling softly as he fed, almost as though purring. How different this Michael was from the stubborn and naive boy he’d been that first summer. David wasn’t one to admit it out loud, but he was truly beautiful like this. 

Michael’s hunger would not be fully satiated until he killed, and so David had to make the difficult executive decision to cut him off. He pushed against Michael’s head gently, causing him to snarl and tear deeper into his throat. So that was how it was going to be. With a heavy sigh, David yanked him by his hair. Michael’s chin was dripping with blood, fangs red and bared, clearly unhappy to be ripped away from his meal.

“Hey, hey. None of that,” David attempted to coax him back from his frenzied state, “You’re okay. You’re fine.”

Michael shut his eyes tightly, shaking off the last traces of his bloodlust. When he opened his eyes, they were blue again. David found himself missing the gold. Seeing his dazed and sheepish bloodstained smile, however, evaporated any other complaints he could have conceived. 

“Got carried away.”

“You were great. Get some rest, I’ve got to go have my dinner now. I’ll wake you before dawn.”

He ruffled Michael’s hair one last time before heading out into the night. He’d do whatever he could to help Michael deal with his family, tonight proved it was worth the effort. Michael was going to make the perfect addition to the pack, just as he’d always known. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy, remember me? It's been what? Two months? Yeah. I'm sorry. I've been super busy. I haven't given up on this, not even a little bit. If you can believe it, I've been slowly chipping away at this chapter almost daily since the last update. It's kind of boring, which is why it was such a slow process. I hope it's not too boring, I really did try my best to make it worthwhile. Better things are coming. I realized I wanted to slow down a little bit and continue to pick at some of the other characters and their subplots so as not to rush Michael's plotline. Not every chapter can be a big flash of fun and violence and excitement and fanservice (I say, as if ANY of the chapters so far have been that), and for that, I'm truly sorry. That's pretty weird of me to say regardless, I feel like this fic is already fairly slow paced, but who knows. Anyways! Next chapter should have things really progressing along in terms of Michael's development. I'll finally be writing some of the scenes that are the reason I wanted to write something in the first place. I can't say when it'll be done. There's a slim chance that it;ll be done MAYBE by the end of the year, maybe a little later. Anyways, I hope you enjoy what I've got this time around at least a little bit.
> 
> And a very special thanks to @SkellaRad for being my first ever beta reader? And for being an amazing friend and convincing me to keep chugging along at this little project.

_ “Wakey, Wakey.” _

The words were whispered softly in his head and soothed his transition from sleep to consciousness. He wasn’t entirely sure if he’d heard them at all, or if it was a remnant of whatever dream he was emerging from. The quiet of the cave shifted abruptly as the boy’s ruckus made its way in. Michael could smell traces of their night’s kill. He was no longer starving, but it caused something in him to stir.

“Looking good Mikey!” Marko had sauntered over to him, smiling easily. There was freshly dried blood painting his cheeks. It was making it difficult for Michael to focus on whatever it was he might have been saying. “You got a little something there,” he motioned to Michael’s own face, smirking knowingly. 

Michael felt a rush of heat to his face, embarrassed. He brought his hand to his jaw and it came back dusted with rusty flecks. He fought the urge to lick it clean. “Yeah, well, so do you.”

Marko’s grin stretched wider, “Yeah, that’s what I like to call breakfast!”

Michael rolled his eyes at that, trying to play it cool and not make it glaringly obvious how drawn he was to the blood on Marko’s face and what was left of his shirt. He wasn’t convinced it was working, Marko looked to be on the verge of snickering. Dwayne and Paul had joined them, and the combined smell of blood made Michael restless. He fidgeted with his hands. They all seemed to be aware of their effect, if their smug grins were of any indication. Michael craned his neck to see David in his wheelchair, eyes trained on him. He felt sort of like a zoo animal. He wondered if this was some sort of test, if the others were feeling him out, seeing if he was worth their time. He understood their newfound cautiousness, he was at fault for it, after all. It still made him self-conscious. It was almost a luxury to actually care about things again, after months of the emotional equivalent of radio silence. It was good to feel again, even if that current emotion was anxiety. He couldn’t help but fear that he wouldn’t pass whatever this test was, that he wouldn’t be accepted by them. It made him feel sick to even consider the possibility of being rejected by them. 

“You feeling better now? You don’t look like you’re going to puke up your guts anymore, so that’s an improvement.” Paul’s tone was playful, but his eyes were searching him, calculating. It made Michael feel small, and he didn’t like that.

“M’fine. Doesn’t hurt anymore, not right now at least.”

“Chin up, Mikey! You don’t gotta be shy around us! Dwayne’s enough of a recluse as is, that position’s been filled.”

Marko slung his arm around Paul’s shoulders and grinned, “Though we’re always accepting applications to be one of the ‘ladykillers!’”

“God help us,” Dwayne sighed.

“Too late for that!”

Dwayne rolled his eyes before shifting his focus to Michael, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. This time, Michael definitely felt like a germ in a petri-dish. Dwayne’s glare wasn’t malicious, but it was purposeful.

“You were there, when I died. Your brother killed me.” He didn’t sound as bitter as Michael expected, but it wasn’t completely without emotion. He was stating a fact, though an unpleasant one. 

Somehow he felt as though apologizing wasn’t the right response, wasn’t what Dwayne was looking for. So instead, Michael replied with: “You were trying to kill my brother.” An equally factual statement. He didn’t really feel defensive or indignant when he said it, though he probably should have. 

Marko and Paul glanced at each other nervously, and David leaned forward to get a better view. Dwayne stared at him, boring into his soul for a good minute. He waved at the two behind him, who visibly relaxed. And then he nodded, “Yeah, I was.” The ghost of an amused smile seemed to pass over Dwayne, mostly resting in his eyes, “No hard feelings.”

“No, no hard feelings...” Michael exhaled a barely audible sigh of relief. His heart was pretty sluggish now, but if it still had the capabilities, it would be thundering in his chest. “I kind of, uh, am getting the impression you guys are messing with me, or something.”

“We’re just intrigued,” Dwayne replies easily, no trace of that earlier tension, “Star and Laddie were different. They weren’t David’s idea, not our idea. Star was...Star, and the kid was just a kid. They were nice to have around, but you feel more like one of us. You will be.”

The comfort that washed over Michael at that almost made him tear up. It was overwhelming. It scratched at some long-neglected part of his psyche. He craved their acceptance, their approval, he couldn’t think of anything that mattered more to him in that moment.

“Plus, now you aren’t freaking out 24/7 and trying to kill us, we’re seeing a new side to you. You’re a lot less of a pain in the ass,” Marko smiles.

“It was pretty funny seeing you freak out though. The bridge and that bonfire? Not forgetting about that any time soon,” Paul snickered, “but the fun’s just getting started. Gonna be real sweet to have you in on most of the jokes this time.”

As David rose from his chair to approach Michael, the others began to retreat, but not before clasping Michael on the shoulder and saying their goodbyes. David leaned down to meet Michael where he sat on the couch, he smiled at him. 

“Alright, so here’s what I’ve got for you. Think we found you a place. We’ve just to clear it out a bit, find someone’s head to mess with, and you should be good to go. Details will follow, just make sure you’ve got yours and your mom’s evenings open. Until then, take this.” He pulled out a worn looking flask, Michael could smell its contents with startling clarity, even through the metal. David smiled at him. “Don’t worry, it’s mine. Though I take it you already know that. There’s not a lot in here, but this was the most discreet thing I could think of, so you’re just gonna have to grit your teeth and bear it. At least it’s not that pretentious-ass wine bottle, right?”

Michael suppressed the urge to bite back: _Yeah, well that ‘pretentious-ass’ bottle sure had a lot more carrying capacity._

David snorted, “This should be more than enough to tide you over for the day. Though I must say, your enthusiasm certainly warms my poor, dead heart.”

He stiffened at that, what was left of his blood rushing to his face in embarrassment, “Hey! What are you talking about? You- I didn’t say anything out loud!”

“Well, you might as well have been shouting at the top of your lungs. Things work differently for you now, you don’t always need to open your mouth to communicate. You’ll get the hang of it eventually. Until then though…” David punctuated his explanation with a knowing smirk. 

Something akin to a growl started in the back of Michael’s throat, surprising himself. There was a flash of something in David’s eyes. He looked amused, but underneath there was some sense of pride. Any irritation Michael had been feeling melted away in an instant. 

“See, look at you! You’ll be a pro in no time! This is good for you, Michael. You’re becoming exactly who you were always meant to be. Don’t sweat it.”

The boombox roared to life somewhere in the cave, and some strangled sounding hair metal could be made out through heavy static. A flock of pigeons flew out from their crevices in a panic. Michael could see Paul headbanging to whatever that song that noise may have made up, the other two didn’t look all that pleased, especially Marko. 

“Almost dawn now, Michael. Get yourself home, got a lot to do tomorrow. Try to sleep through as much of the day as you can.”

Michael turned to leave, but felt a deepening sense of restlessness and dread at the idea. 

“I don’t want to leave.”

David gave him a sad smile. It looked sincere, no underlying mockery or condescension, something Michael didn’t know he was capable of. It wasn’t like what he was accustomed to seeing from Lucy, he didn’t feel pitied or small, he just felt a calm wash over him. He felt understood. 

“I know, Michael. It’s hard to leave your pack. You’ll be seeing me again by nightfall, and soon you’ll never have to leave again.”

—

Unsurprisingly, Michael was still in bed when Sam got up to answer the phone. It was past ten, but the shop opened late today, so he had decided to sleep in a bit himself. Lucy was gone for work already, and so it was up to Sam to answer the telephone’s ceaseless ringing. 

“Emerson household, Sam speaking.”

“The power of Christ compels you!”

“Oh. Edgar. How’s it going, man?”

“Hm. You don’t sound like you’ve burst into flames. I guess I can trust that you’re human enough.”

“Well, yeah, but I doubt you’d take my word for it. Also, I don’t think shouting lines from The Exorcist through the phone would do anything to me even if I was a bloodsucker, though. I don’t think they count as demons. Would have been a lot easier to take care of that biker gang if that were the case.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t patronize me. Got to do what we can. You haven’t called in a while, had to make sure our favorite idiot was still in one piece.”

“I did call actually, or tried to. Last number you gave me was for that motel in Boulder, doesn’t seem like you’re there anymore.”

“Ah, damn. I guess...Alan... forgot to give you the new number. Yeah, we’re just outside of Phoenix right now if you can believe it. Your old stomping grounds, right? You’ll be glad to know the vampire infestation here is looking pretty minor.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“Affirmative. How’s it going back home? Any bloodsuckers come crawling out from under any rocks?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you took care of em’, Ed.”

“That’s what they’d want you to believe. That’s what they’d want you to tell me if they were holding you hostage, too! Shit, Sam, do I gotta come back over there and cut you loose?”

There wasn’t really a way for Sam to respond to Edgar once he got like this. If he tried to convince him that he was fine, it would only aggravate the paranoia further and solidify to Edgar that Sam’s brains had been turned to mush under a vampire’s thrall. If he sarcastically agreed with him and joked about actually being in danger, Edgar would get pissed and sulk for unreasonably long periods of time. Thankfully, before Sam had to decide on how to respond, there was some noise in the background.

“What?” Edgar called out, away from the receiver, “Yeah, it’s Sam. Here, you take it, tell me if he’s being held hostage.”

There was a bit of shuffling around.

“Hey Sam. How’s it going?” It was Alan.

“Alright, how about you?”

“We’re okay, I guess. Well, I don’t know. Maybe not.”

“What do you mean?”

Alan lowered his voice. “This whole vampire hunting thing, it’s real important and all, and it’s the right thing to do. But it doesn’t really tend to pay. I told Edgar that, how maybe we ought to go looking for an additional source of income. Like a real job, and continue hunting on the side.”

“Doesn’t sound like he took it well.”

“No. He didn’t. I’m worried about him in the long term. He seems under the impression that our savings will last us forever, or that we’ll pull off a big vampire bust and the townspeople are going to shower us in adoration and gold.”

“He reads too many comics.”

“Definitely.”

“I’m sorry, Al. That doesn’t sound easy to deal with.”

“Yeah. I’d be fine being the only one working, honestly, but he won’t even allow that. He thinks I’m abandoning the mission, turning my back on humanity and the American way.”

“Maybe you need some time apart? You don’t need to be your brother’s keeper.”

“No, I couldn’t do that. He jumps into things without looking first. I have to be there for him, or else he’s going to end up someone’s dinner. I’m making it sound all bad, it’s not, I’m just frustrated right now.”

“Yeah, I get that. Just make sure you aren’t enabling him by doing all the adult stuff yourself.”

“Hm. Anyway, how’s the shop?”

“It’s good actually. Less stealing than last summer, still plenty, but not as bad. I don’t even know why it’s such a rampant thing. The guys who do it don’t even seem to know how to read.”

“Can’t say I miss that.”

“No, didn’t think you would, haha.” 

“Well, it was nice catching up. Sorry to be a downer about the whole thing. I’ll go grab Edgar to say goodbye.”

There was some muffled shouting on the other line, probably his attempt at convincing Edgar that Sam was still human and perfectly safe. 

“Good to hear you’re alright, soldier. We’re staying in Phoenix till the end of the month, following a few leads on possible vampire activity, tying up some loose ends. Changing motels tomorrow, so this number won’t be of any use to you, can’t leave ourselves vulnerable. You understand. We’ll call you. Stay safe.”

He hung up before Sam was able to respond, which was typical. It was almost endearing how little Edgar had changed since they’d first met. Almost. But Alan had come a long way. It was good to hear from them, but it left Sam feeling more than a little concerned. Things seemed strained between the brothers, and he feared that it would reach some degree of a breaking point before their next call. He was glad to not be around for that, but dreaded dealing with the fallout. He wondered if they’d found any success on their mission to rid the country, and eventually the world, of vampires. There was a lot of talk of investigating leads, but they rarely had more to say about it. They didn’t seem all that easy to find. Sam had gone his whole life not having believed in them, and could have continued doing so had Michael not gone and tried to eat him that one time. He just didn’t see there being much of a market in monster hunting. Were other monsters even real? If they were, they were even better at laying low. Sam couldn’t bring himself to obsess over vampires and go to the ends of the earth to try and destroy them. Sometimes, he forgot they existed at all. As long as they stayed away from his family, he could rest easy.

\---

“Here, Lucy. Got you some Earl Grey, they didn’t have Darjeeling. Hope that’s fine.”

“Of course it is! Thank you, Patty. You’re a life-saver. I thought I was going to fall asleep at my desk.”

“You didn’t get enough sleep, huh?”

“No, not lately.”

Patty’s eyes widened and though she opened her mouth, it took a moment for her to say: “Oh, that’s right, I’m so sorry!”

Lucy cringed a bit. She hadn’t been thinking of her father when she’d said that, but now it was creeping back into her headspace, like storm clouds approaching a harbor. She didn’t want to wallow today. “No, no! It’s not that, don’t worry, Patty. Michael, my oldest, keeps coming home late. Slams the door when he comes in, it wakes me up. Not for much longer though, he’s moving out.”

“Lucy, that's quite a lot of upheaval for you in just over a week!”

“Tell me about it. It shouldn’t surprise me, he’s that age and all, but I can’t help but keep forgetting. He’s not my little boy anymore, he’s gotten to be bigger than his father.”

“I understand, the first one is the hardest. When Amy went to Portland for school, I was a mess for months. Then Beverly went upstate, and I was a mess for weeks, then Andrew. It gets easier. At least Michael will still be local.”

“You’re right, it won’t be so bad. I’m just out of sorts lately.”

A pair of arms enveloped her suddenly, causing her to jump in surprise. She recognized the garishly colored Swatch on the wrist immediately, and visibly relaxed. She turned and smiled up at him.

“Hi, Bill. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming in.”

“Sorry Lucy,” he leaned forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek, eliciting an eye-roll from Patty. “Had a terrible morning. Woke up late, spilled coffee on my favorite tie, got stuck in traffic, I’m afraid of whatever else this morning has in store for me.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” She gave his hand a squeeze, “I think things are looking better for you.”

“Of course they are, I get to see you.”

Patty makes an exaggerated retching noise, “Alright you two, keep it professional. Well... I guess that ship has already sailed. Just, don’t be gross.”

With that, Patty turned to leave in the direction of the Children’s Department. Bill shifted his hands to her shoulders, giving a brief squeeze, before taking his seat at the other end of the front desk. Lucy turned back to the paperwork she’d been dreading, but she no longer had her drowsiness to use as a valid excuse to shirk her work.

It had been a slow day so far. Some elderly patrons had come in to spend the morning browsing the shelves, and they’d likely be staying for hours before they’d decide upon what they’d be checking out this week. A couple of people had come in to use the Macintosh’s that had been installed a few years prior. Most young people steered clear of the library during the summer months, aside from that final few weeks when they’d come scrambling in for the remaining copies of their assigned reading. A few mothers had come in with their young ones attached at the hip, reminding Lucy of simpler times. How big her own boys had grown, how fast times had changed. It was something she didn’t think she’d ever fully adjust to. It seemed like just yesterday when Michael had said his first words, taken his first steps, when she had watched him cradle Sam in his arms for the first time. It wouldn’t be long until she’d be attending his wedding, handsome boy he was. Not long until she’d see him hold his own children in his arms, when he’d bring the family around for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. It wouldn’t be all that much longer until he was watching his own kids leave the house, off for school, off to start their own families. The clock never stopped. At least she still had Sam to look after for the next couple of years. 

She was lifted out of her musings when she heard Bill softly humming to himself. He was chewing the cap of his pen as he scribbled at some of his own paperwork. She smiled. He always looked nice, but even more so when he was lost in thought, brow furrowed in concentration. She certainly saw the irony in dating yet another man she worked with, a taboo that had wreaked havoc on her twice before, but it really seemed as though the third time was the charm. Bill was thoughtful, and charming, and funny, and handsome too, to tie it all together. He cared about what she had to say and gave her all the time and space she needed whenever past anxieties flared up. It was an additional benefit, of course, that he was able to walk around in the daylight, and wasn’t some monster out of the horror comics Sam read. It was strange, thinking back to Max. Lucy had known him for less than a month, and in a whirlwind of violence and insanity, he’d come and gone from her life. Perhaps not so surprisingly, the events from her dissolved marriage had left more of an impact on her psyche than that night a bunch of monsters had torn apart her house and tried to make her family like them. It just felt like some bizarre nightmare, and by daylight, it had passed. The physical damage to the house had lingered longer than her mental anguish. It was over now. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. Sam had handled it much the same way. It was only Michael, as it always seemed to be, who had been left as a much different person. She wondered if that girl of his leaving, Star, had broken his heart. For a long while, he seemed directionless in life, and that had really worried her. Though it hurt her heart a bit to think of him leaving, she was glad that he finally was doing something with his life, starting off on the track of being a responsible young man. 

Bill put the cap back on his pen and smiled over at Lucy. 

“Hey, would you like to get dinner tonight?”

“Tonight? Oh, why I’d love to, but I believe Michael said he’d be showing me his new apartment.”

“Right, you mentioned he was moving out. Isn’t it happening a little fast? You only just told me about it the other day.”

“Don’t I know it. You know how boys are, impulsive I suppose.”

“They sure are. I suppose I was much the same when I was about his age.”

She chewed her lip a bit, weighing her options, “Maybe seeing the apartment won’t take so long. We could get together for drinks?”

“That sounds perfect, Lucy, I would like that very much.”

“Great,” she smiled, “It’s a date, then.”

“Well, I should hope so! Otherwise, the number of times we’ve gone out to dinner might look a bit suspicious. People are starting to talk…”

\--

Michael rolled out of bed a little past three in the afternoon to a blissfully empty house. He still felt off-kilter. The blinds were drawn, but the slivers of sunlight that peaked through aggravated him. He felt around the bedside table for his sunglasses and slipped them on. The relief was instantaneous and he felt more awake already, as though the tinted lenses had tricked his hindbrain into believing it was night on some minute level.

He was still in what he’d worn yesterday, but thankfully, there were no bloodstains as far as he could tell. He felt at his face. That too was clean. He didn’t recall washing it when he’d gotten home. Could it have been David? Parts of the night were a bit hazy. 

He recalled, unfortunately, how nervous he’d been in the other boy’s company, and how he’d likely embarrassed himself yet again. The details were blurred, but the general consensus was there. He’d probably never hear the end of it. He also remembered, with a stab of intense pain to his stomach, how he’d fed from David. His hunger was once again beginning to flare to life, much earlier than it had the previous day. David was right, he was running out of time. He couldn’t go on playing house for much longer. 

He eyed the flask that sat on the bedside table. The hunger roared at the reminder of what lay inside, and Michael doubled over in blinding pain, sunglasses nearly slipping off his face. Would there be enough to last him until he’d see David again? It was still so early, not even close to sunset and he’d have to spend several hours with Lucy in the evening. The flask was pretty small, and a sizeable dent in its side likely meant it contained even less than advertised. He eyed it wearily. He’d have to wait just a bit longer, until it was absolutely necessary. He couldn’t risk the flask running dry when he needed it most.

Michael pulled himself out of bed. There were things to do in order to sell this stupid story to his family. He’d have to begin organizing things, filling boxes. He’d need to take anything worth bringing in as few trips as possible. It wouldn’t be much longer now, until dropping by for anything other than the occasional dinner would be physically impossible. He could sneak in through his window for anything he’d forgotten, but he couldn’t afford to have too much stuff go missing after he’d stop visiting, it’d obviously be pretty suspicious. He didn’t even understand why he was going through all this trouble, crafting some overly complicated alibi to sell the story that he’d be the same obedient, soul-crushingly dull Michael he’d always been until the day he died. It wasn’t really like he cared anymore. Maybe he should have just faked his death. He was jumping through hoops for a family that wouldn’t appreciate the effort anyways. If they found out he was going back to David after everything that had happened, it wouldn’t matter whether or not tried to spare their feelings, they’d still act as though he was ruining their lives. He was really going out on a limb here, putting in unnecessary effort to keep them happy, and it would be completely thankless regardless of the outcome. 

Still, he’d decided to go through with it. It was more on a whim than anything else at this point. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that it was the right thing for him to do, or at the very least, the only “right” thing he was willing to do. The only course of action he could take that would actually keep them happy, the real “right” thing to do, would be to just cut his losses and leave any memory of David and the boys behind. To do what Star had done. How could he be content with that? Even before he’d met David, he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. Sure, he figured he’d find a girl and get married, move to the suburbs, go bowling Friday nights with his office buddies, the whole nine yards. It wasn’t really something he wanted, per se, it was just what he figured he’d end up doing. He didn’t know there was another option. He had never wanted much of anything before. Well, there were probably a couple different routes he could have taken other than becoming a vampire, but this was the only thing that felt right anymore. Who was he to deny himself that? By the end of the week it wouldn’t even matter. David was, shockingly, on board with his wholly unnecessary detour, and that made Michael feel conflicted. He’d caused him so much strife, and yet he was still willing to put in an unreasonable amount of effort to humor Michael’s self-interested whims. He’d really had David pegged all wrong. Thinking about the situation had him feeling guilt once more, an emotion that had begun to grow foreign to him. It twisted painfully in his gut like a dull knife. He’d really have to find a way to make it up to him as soon as possible.

Michael took a step back to look at his handiwork. He’d managed to make a small stack of clothes as well as a few piles of other essentials scattered about the bed. He’d actually included more clothes than he’d intended on actually wearing. He didn’t have any sentimentality towards much of anything in his closet. He’d never really cultivated a style or identity for himself that had felt right. He wore what his mother bought him, things plain and unassuming enough to not register as being from the bargain bin to his classmates. There were only a handful of things he would mind parting with, the rest was filler in order to better sell the narrative of his moving out. 

The sun was still fairly high in the sky, and it hurt to look at it for too long, even with the aid of the sunglasses. The spaces between jolts of searing, agonizing hunger were narrowing. He had tried to ignore it, to push forward for as long as was feasible, but it was looking like he’d have to do something about it, and soon. His body was exhausted from its brief time in the day, but he didn’t even think sleep could stave away the pain. He sat on his bed, propping his feet up and leaned back against the headboard. He took the flask from the bedside table and tossed it from one hand to the other, considering. He uncapped it and took a swig, and immediately the hunger receded. It was immensely satisfying, but nowhere near on the same level as having taken it directly from David’s vein. It was duller, it soothed his aching body like a balm but left something to be desired. There was no electricity, no fire here. The instinct to hunt went unheeded, his hunger was pacified but his body still felt restless and cramped. He took one last mouthful before forcing it away and placing it back on the table, he’d need it later. There really wasn’t much in the flask at all, despite David’s reassurance. Still, it was enough to allow him the comfort of slipping back into sleep until the day was done. He ceased fighting his eyelids from drooping. Just a little more sleep…

_ “Michael.” _

He startled awake, his room was dark now. His clock read out that it was seven fifteen. Whatever had woken him sounded a lot like David’s voice, though it was whispered and soothing.

_ “I’m flattered, but yes, it is me, actually. Time to wake up.” _

Now that he was really in the right mind to focus on the words, it struck him just how bizarre it was. He had caught bits of it back at the cave, but really hearing it this time, focusing on it was perhaps more accurate, was something else entirely. It was less like hearing David speak, and more like having the memory of his words and voice placed into his brain, as though it had always been there. It was like sharing a headspace and experiencing the words as they were conceived and spoken, yet at the same time, as though they’d already been said and he was simply recollecting. 

_ “Don’t overthink this, Michael. You’re not all the way there yet, it’s not really something that can be explained. It’ll make sense soon, don’t sweat it.” _

He tried to tap into whatever psychic channel David had access to, but it was just out of his reach. Michael craned his neck and tried to hear the activity within the house, everyone should be home by now. He could hear what sounded to be the opening of the cabinets in the kitchen downstairs. They shouldn’t overhear.

“So, what’s the plan then?” He whispered.

He could almost hear David’s chuckle at that, like it was echoing about the room. _“You don’t need to speak, I can hear you. You can’t really talk like this yet, but as long as I’m focusing, I can read your thoughts just fine. You’ll pick these things up a lot faster once you complete your change.”_

Nearly all the weaknesses that came with vampirism, and few of the strengths. The past few days hadn’t exactly been the most fun.

_ “Well, the sun isn’t an immediate death sentence for you yet. That’s certainly one thing I miss. Not that you can enjoy it much since you’re already practically nocturnal, but at least you don’t catch fire. That shit is the worst.” _

He still had no idea what the plan was tonight. He didn’t have any names or an address or much clue as to how David was going to manage to help convince Lucy that everything was legitimate. 

_ “Have a little faith in me, Michael! We’re getting there. I assume you don’t care too much about the apartment itself, since it’s not like you’re going to be living there. I got the boys to scope out a few places, and I think we’ve narrowed it down to something that fits your criteria. Dwayne picked out a little place that’s plain enough to look legit. I trust his judgment over the other two.” _

A series of images flashed in Michael’s mind and then it went beyond that. He was actually reliving someone else’s memory, viewing it in real-time through someone else’s eyes. He saw the apartment, it was furnished, plain, but still clearly lived in. The location looked perfect. Maybe more than a little bit beyond his budget. Being jolted out of the memory and back into his room had him nearly doubling over with sudden motion sickness, something that was no doubt extremely entertaining to David. 

David spared him the humiliation and continued, _“We’re going to dump the owner’s shit out the window, don’t worry. There isn’t even a ton of stuff to begin with. Guy’s as white bread as they come, easy to control, mind was like mush. You’ll know him when you see him, he’s our puppet for this evening.”_

It was time to get going, he’d slept in too long. He uncapped the flask and took another drink before placing it, now half empty, into his back pocket. It stabilized him for the time being. 

_“I’m glad to help,”_ David’s voice sounded clearer now with his blood working its way through Michael once more. It sounded mirthful. _“Anything you need. I’m glad to help. This is what it means to be one of us, and you **are** one of us. I can feel you getting closer and closer to who you were always meant to be. You’re so close now.”_

He made his way down the stairs, doing his best to let the words wash over him and pass him by. He didn’t have time to analyze how they made him feel. 

“Hey, Mom,” he called out into the house, “Ready to go?”

He smelled the perfume before anything else. Lucy emerged from the kitchen, adjusting the sleeves of her blouse. She gave him a smile, “All set.”

“You’re dressed up,” he stated casually as they made their way to the garage.

“I thought I’d meet Bill for drinks after this.”

And, well, that certainly worked out in Michael’s favor. It would mean less time spent doing this whole charade, less time for error, and less time he’d spend away from the others. This was promising. 

Lucy continued, “You know, I’d really like for you to meet him.”

That was unlikely. “I already have. He seems… nice.”

Lucy would drive. He gave her the address. They got into the car, and she started it before turning to Michael, smiling. 

“I don’t mean a passing glance at the library, Michael. I think we really all ought to get together for dinner one of these nights, and really get to know each other. I really think things are becoming serious.”

“You thought that about Max.”

Her face fell. The engine idled for a moment longer, and then they pulled out of the driveway in silence. Several minutes passed like that. Michael looked out the window. It was obvious she was expecting an apology, and maybe he owed that to her. The remark had been unnecessarily cruel- a low blow. But he just didn’t feel like blubbering out another apology if he could help it. 

“Michael, I’m not sure if that was supposed to be a joke, but I didn’t find it very funny. That was hurtful, and I think you knew that it would be.” She stared ahead at the road.

Alright, so he’d apologize. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

She pursed her lips. “It was a little more than insensitive, Michael.”

“You’re right. Sorry.”

She didn’t look completely convinced, which could prove to be a problem. He let another beat pass between them, they were only minutes away from the building now. He’d have to play along, put on a show, whatever it took to get on her good side again. He needed tonight to go smoothly, and he didn’t stand to gain anything by picking at old wounds.

“No, you’re right,” He gave an audible sigh for effect, “It was in poor taste. Bill seems like a very nice man, I’m sure he is. You deserve that, after Dad, and after Max. It’s good. He makes you happy.”

“He really does, Michael. I would really love for you to properly meet him. Maybe once you get all settled at your new place, we could arrange some plans. I would really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, we’ll do that. Sounds good.”

Mollified, she pulled into an open spot across the street from the building. 

“So, this is it?” Lucy said as they approached the front steps, she paused to give the stucco facade an appraisal. “It’s nice.”

He nodded. It was nice, maybe a little too nice. It was small, and bordered a sort of convenience store with a garage open for car repairs, but it wasn’t as rundown as he’d expected, as Lucy probably had as well. The building was very well-maintained, likely built recently. That was probably a good thing, it’d put her at ease.

The doors opened before they reached the top steps, startling Lucy, and revealing a stout middle-aged man in a striped polo shirt and khakis. He met Michael’s eyes and flashed him a smile that bordered onto a smirk, an expression he recognized well. The man turned to Lucy and reached out his hand.

“You must be Michael’s mother! It’s a pleasure to meet you, please call me George.” 

She took his hand tentatively, “Yes, that’s me. It’s very nice to meet you.”

He turned back to Michael, his face was relaxed, but his eyes were intense. Those weren’t George’s eyes, if that was even his real name, it was David. His smile sharpened a bit, likely having overheard the realization. “Well, what do you say, Michael? Let’s show her around the place.” 

As George held the door open, allowing them to mill in, Michael focused his thoughts to the best of his ability. How was he pulling off this trick? 

_“Talk later.”_ David’s voice whispered in his mind while George’s expression remained unchanged. He clasped Michael’s shoulder and led him across the threshold and up the stairs. 

“So,” George began as he fiddled with the door, “This set of keys will be Michael’s, and I’ve got my set. Arrangements can be made for a spare, but I’m hoping Michael here won’t be so forgetful as to need one.” The door opened up to reveal a small room with a couch. There was a television within view as well as a coffee table. Pretty simple stuff.

“So here’s the living room. Cable’s not included but a basic plan shouldn’t put you out too much, if that’s something you need.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. Michael’s gone without TV before, it’ll be good for him.”

Some polite laughter from George at her quip. 

“Over here we’ve got the kitchen, hot plates, sink, cabinets. All furnished. Got a dishwasher here too, had that installed a few months ago, certainly makes things a lot easier.”

Michael stood by the entrance observing as Lucy walked about the space. Obviously, he didn’t care about the quality of the apartment, he wouldn’t be living there, but it was jarring at how well David was pulling this off. Had he done this before? 

_ “Take fifteen minutes to glance at the listings on the window of that realtor’s office downtown and you’ve got all the vocabulary you need. It’s not rocket science.” _

“Michael mentioned to me that this comes with the job. Could you elaborate a little more on that?”

“Sure. Well, I live uptown a bit and am looking towards expanding. I need someone to be on-location and available at short notice to do some of the odds-and-ends around here. Taking shifts at odd hours when we have people unable to come in, keeping tabs on the place after hours, and being there if there’s ever any cause for an emergency. Though hopefully, that will never be the case. It’s an unconventional job, but I’ve had several guys take the position over the last couple years and they found it to be pretty fulfilling.”

“And why is the position open right now?”

“Oh, well, it’s sort of a contractual job. I usually just hire someone for the tourist season, but in Michael’s case, it’s for the year. Since I’m looking at other properties for expansion, I won’t be around as much so I’ll need a hand.”

Lucy hummed, pacified. She looked like she had more to say, but they headed for the hall past the kitchen without incident. 

“On your right is the bedroom, first door on your left is the bathroom, just past that is the linen closet.” 

The hunger snuck up on him, sending dull waves of pain across his body, threatening to intensify. His fingers ghosted the outline of the flask in his back pocket. He didn’t want Lucy to catch him drinking anything out of a flask, much less blood, in any scenario. Lucy. He could hear her heart beating, growing louder, and leaving everything else in the background. The apartment was small, they were too close in proximity. He could feel his gums begin to ache, fangs threatening to slip free. David, or George, briefly glanced at him, eyes betraying a hint of concern, before leading Lucy to the bathroom. Michael hung back and tried his best to discreetly take a little more from the flask. 

There wasn’t much left. Cold blood, metallic-tasting from sitting stagnant in the flask all day, pooled into his mouth. There was enough left for two and a half mouthfuls, and then he was left on his own. The blood managed to soothe his hunger, but his body was left unsatisfied, even more so with Lucy just in the next room. He had enough of himself about him to know he didn’t want to eat her, just as he didn’t want to eat Sam, but it was becoming more difficult to convince himself that they weren’t food. It actually did disturb him a bit, being faced with it so directly. It had been a thought, a concern, that sat in the back of his head. Not the desire to do so, but the concept of it. It wasn’t as though he wanted to eat them, he just needed blood, and that was something they possessed, as did every other human. It wasn’t ideal to go for them, in fact, it was something he’d actively avoid doing, but there wasn’t such an all-encompassing desire to protect them with every ounce of energy he possessed any more. If he hurt Lucy or Sam, he would be beyond upset, but even now, he felt like he could get over it. How much of that guilt would remain after he completed his transformation, he didn’t know. 

“Alright, and now the last stop, the bedroom’s over here. Closet space isn’t bad, but there’s a dresser, and some storage bins under the bed as well if you need more.” 

“Michael, are you alright? You’re looking a little peaky, do you want to go outside and get some fresh air?”

She was too close. Evidentially, the flask had not done quite enough. 

“No, Mom, that’s ok. This is almost over, I’ll manage.”

“I don’t know, Michael,” George-David cut in, giving him a pointed look, “Don’t you think the fresh air will do you some good?”

Michael knew it wasn’t a question. “I guess,” he said, giving Lucy a sheepish smile, “I’ll be out front.”

“See you in a few minutes, dear.”

  
  
  


It ended up being twenty. He assumed Lucy was grilling George-David about her various concerns. He was glad to not be there for it, but wondered how David would fare under her scrutiny. He’d have to ask him later what exactly he was doing to pull this thing off. Was it an elaborate illusion, genuine possession, or something beyond his realm of conception? Would he be able to do that after the change? 

_ "Maybe in a few decades. We’ll get there when we get there." _

Hearing, or remembering, as was more accurate, David’s voice was a welcome change. Even if he sounded smug. Hearing certain aspects of David’s inflections and speech patterns in another man’s register and age-worn vocal cords was pretty disturbing. It just hit him the wrong way, something just was unspeakably creepy about it. It just wasn’t right.

_ "Don’t worry, you’ll be hearing from me plenty for the next couple of centuries."  _

The front doors opening startled him out of his head before he could put any more thought into just what centuries meant. 

“Well, thank you for taking the time to console an overbearing mother, George. It was a pleasure meeting you, though I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other every now and then.”

“Of course, Mrs. Emerson. Don’t worry, your son is in good hands."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this update! I'd love to hear your thoughts on things so far, or any thoughts you have about Michael or the others! Feel free to let me know if I made any grammatical errors or problems with formatting if you notice anything. Some stuff gets lost between my transferring from a google doc to here.


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